And how does it all end up?
by SnapesJapes
Summary: Set after the war. Draco and Hermione cross paths and things get heated, but how do things turn out? [DRAMIONE] [re-uploaded] [finished]
1. Prologue

**Okay, I uploaded this fic last summer as one massive long document because I was too lazy to split it up into separate chapters. Now it's summer again and I have some time I re-edited it a bit, made about 18 chapters I think and I'm re-uploading. I probably won't do them all in one go but if you are a new reader, I hope you enjoy the story. It's a Dramione fic, takes a while to get going so if you stick with it, kudos to you. I'd also like to say thank you a hundred times over to the people who reviewed, I think I replied to them all but thanks again, especially to that really kind anon one I wanted to reply so much!**

**Apologies for any errors still left over, feel free to point them out and I would love any criticisms/comments.**

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

**May 2001**

Draco didn't object to the idea of a brother. It wasn't such a burden that a small fraction of his inheritance, an heirloom or two, an estate nobody really cared about, would go to Seth. In fact, he saw the benefits Seth had brought – it was good press after the war and a birth was a good excuse for a party. It was just that babies were so unbelievably dull. Seth sat there going back and forth on a cheap toy broomstick, crashing first into the wall, then almost toppling a lamp, then falling off and climbing back up, only to crash into the wall again. It disgusted Draco how his parents fawned over this behaviour, as if a two–year–old could possibly have achieved anything worth noticing!

Draco was of the opinion that he shouldn't be forced to have more than minimal contact with his brother until Seth was at least able to hold his own in a conversation. He honestly couldn't understand why his parents felt any different, why they allowed themselves to be turned to mush at the sight of a baby.

Narcissa was oddly upset to find Draco writing a letter in his study while Seth sat on the couch being fed by a house-elf. 'Oh Draco,' she moaned. She took Seth up in her arms.

'What mother?' he said.

'I wish you would take this time to get to _know_ your brother,' she said.

'What's there to know? He's a baby.'

'You mean you don't love him?'

'How can you love something that doesn't even have a personality?'

'Oh don't say that!' She started to cry.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't cry,' he said. He hated when she cried.

'He's a little boy Draco, he's not a dog.'

'I know, I just don't like little children much.'

'But darling, he's your _brother_.'

He grimaced. The best thing to do in such situations, particularly with his mother who could never be reasonable once she got this way, was to lie. 'Of course I love him mother. And in a few years, when he's a bit older, I'll love spending time with him. I'm just not big on babies.' And maybe in a few years, he would feel different.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**April 2005**

And yet, he didn't. It was almost exactly four years later and Seth was almost six and Draco close to twenty–five and he still couldn't stand the child. He was at the manor to talk business with his father and yet, there was Seth, little untroubled eyes dancing as he told Draco what he was learning about in lessons. 'Have you got a wand yet?' Draco asked. Why was it such a long walk to his father's office?

'Well…no. But father says, for my birthday, he'll bring me to Salem and we can choose a wand and–'

'Funny. I got mine well before I was six.'

'Really? Not…not on your _fifth_ birthday?'

'No, no, it wasn't a present. More a reward really, for turning somebody into a bat.'

'What? But that's not _nice_!'

Lucius had spent the years after the war trying to distance himself from his bad reputation and pretend as though he had a conscience, even make an effort with the whole family–man thing. The result was that Seth had a rather sugar coated view of the world, which Draco always felt sorely tempted to tear down. Instead he only said, 'It certainly isn't little Setheus. But it was still a smart piece of magic and father was very proud. He took me to Ollivander's right that evening.'

'Ollivander's?' Seth's face fell. 'I've got to go to America.'

'Oh.' Draco fixed his face into an unconvincing smile. 'Well, I'm _sure_ that'll be just as good.' Was Seth about to cry? That would be too funny. 'Anyways, father and I need to discuss some things, so... go on. Shoo.' But before Seth moved the door of the office swung open and there was Lucius, smiling widely.

'My two boys,' he said, then caught sight of the younger's face. 'What's wrong?' he asked. And then Seth burst into tears and ran into his father's arms, spouting something along the lines of, '_IhavetogotoSalemn'Dracowasfiven's'notfairI'msixandIwannagotoOllivander's!_'

Lucius glared at Draco, who only stepped past him and leaned on the edge of the heavy old desk.

They wasted so much time calming Seth that Draco almost regretted winding him up. Still, eventually they got down to business with Seth still on his father's lap. Draco spent most of his time managing the family finances, investing the money that had been passed down from generation to generation. Lucius was always looking for good investments and opportunities for furthering the Malfoy name. There was hardly a charity venture they weren't attached to. The Malfoys had one of the largest private art collections in Britain. Lucius was never happy with art buyers though and for a number of years Draco had been building the collection. He had, since coming out of prison, slowly begun taking over the empire.

There was a collection of items coming up for auction shortly. The market for rare antiques and valuables had been fat in recent years. During the war people who'd been short for money had sold their heirlooms for cash or offered them as bribes to Death Eaters. These had all been seized after the collapse of Voldemort and were only now, after years of bureaucracy, being sold off by the ministry.

'Where's it from?' Lucius asked.

'There's bits from Macnair's Scottish castle. There's a giant skull you might be interested in, they've got a lot of medical benefits and we could probably sell abroad for a good profit.'

'Anything else in the catalogue?'

'Not much.'

'Mmm. The Macnairs _were_ rather _nouveau riche_, weren't they?' Lucius wrinkled his nose, toying with Seth's white blonde hair.

'Yes. There is something else though.'

'Out with it.'

'The personal effects of Snape. Spinner's End is on the market.'

'Spinner's– oh! Snape's old hovel. Is it the ministry selling?'

'Yes, it's not at auction yet though, they still have to go through the claimance stage.'

The system was quite straightforwards when people died with no next of kin and no will. After a tedious process of cataloguing items, removing wards and checking for curses, properties and everything in them were sold to the highest bidder. However, first there was a period of time in which friends or loved ones could submit a claim through the courts to inherit things.

'We have a good chance if we go through the courts, do we not?' Lucius said.

'Yes, I've spoken to Struthers and he said in usual cases the photos of him as your best man and you two at Hogwarts would be enough evidence. We've got plenty of witnesses as well, and not all of them are in Azkaban.'

Lucius smirked. 'You know, I'm looking forward to this. Seth, would you like to see Snape's old house?'

'Yes, of course,' Seth said obediently. He had grown up on watered down versions of Lucius' war stories since he was in a pram and Snape had featured heavily in all of them.

'We should try to leave it exactly as it was,' Lucius said fondly. 'A kind of memorial to Severus.'

'There is a problem though,' Draco said. 'We won't be the only ones claiming.'

'What? Who else?' Lucius sat up so suddenly Seth almost tumbled off his lap. 'If it's any of those museum trusts we can buy them out. They all owe me anyways.'

'I'm afraid not. It's Harry Potter.'

The inevitable explosion occurred. Seth stood beside Draco as Lucius fumed and paced. 'What right has that little dunderhead to interfere? Severus despised the boy!' and, 'Probably wants to knock the place down and turn it into a casino. Can we never escape from him?' Eventually, as Lucius built into a rage and Seth was beginning to get frightened, Draco cut in. 'We've got a better case than him father.'

'Ah, but who has ever won in a fight against Harry Potter?'

'Well we can try.'

'Mmm. Might not be worth the bad publicity. Let me think about it. I'll be in London Tuesday and I'll call over then.'

* * *

><p>Lucius agreed to go for Spinner's End, as Draco knew he would. His father was a sentimental man and to see Potter winning it uncontested was more than he could endure. The date in court was set for that Friday and Draco, about to head out for the opera, Flooed his head through the fire to deliver the news. He had got straight through to the main drawing room where Lucius, Narcissa and Seth were already relaxing after supper.<p>

'We've got a court date. The whole thing is being rushed through because Potter's name is on it,' he said.

'So when is it?' Lucius asked.

'Friday.'

'Oh.'

'What?'

'Daddy can't go it's my birthday and he's bringing me for my wand,' Seth said.

Draco paused a moment, fully expecting his father to cancel the trip. 'Well, mother can take you, can't she?' he prodded.

Seth pouted and Lucius said, slowly, 'You know Draco, I was thinking it might be better for you to stand in my place. There'll be less bad press and there'll be less of a fuss if we lose.'

'But–'

'He was your godfather. I can give you some memories and anyways, there's nothing I can tell them that you can't.' And it was decided.

* * *

><p>Draco did everything he possibly could to influence the day's events. Never before had he chosen his clothes so carefully or gone through a presentation so many times. It had to be polished without appearing over–rehearsed, touching and sweet without being unbelievable.<p>

It was an art, the way he spoke. Not for the first time he thanked his parents for all those years of elocution lessons. The process of the court was straightforward, almost infantile in it's simplicity. First Draco told his side, then Potter, then the council voted. They had the use of a pensieve, though the council were warned to be aware of altered memories. Draco had no need to mess with the memories he had chosen. First he had a range of photographs, one showing his parents, beaming on their wedding day and Snape with the slightest smirk on his face acting as best man. Bellatrix, the fourth member of the wedding party, had originally stood next to Narcissa but she'd since slunk out of the frame.

'Severus was in all my earliest memories, a piece of my childhood,' Draco said. 'He was always a welcome guest at our house and I can't count how often he was at our dinner table. We had no contact with any of my aunts, but he was an uncle, there for every Christmas and birthday. He was intimidating, yeah, but when you won his approval it really meant something.' There was a memory. Draco's floating head appeared to the room, aged about thirteen. 'Do you think I'll ever be any good?' he said. Snape narrowed his eyes, judging him. The two were slowly circling the pensieve, their shoulders enveloped in mist. 'Yes, if you keep working I have no doubt one day you'll make a very fine Occlumens.' The two heads faded as Draco broke into a wide grin and Snape let a shadow of a smile flicker over his face.

'There's no monetary value in Spinner's End, but I feel like I owe it to him to preserve it and not only that but to keep it from Harry Potter. I have nothing against Mr Potter,' a bare–faced lie right there, 'but Severus couldn't stand him. He helped him, but I doubt Potter ever played cards or…or went on holidays with him.'

There was a memory again, Lucius and Snape this time. 'You have him for potions, don't you?' Lucius was saying. Both men held wine glasses and looked relaxed.

'Unfortunately, yes,' and Snape rolled his eyes, typically droll. Lucius laughed.

'Oh surely he can't be that bad,' Lucius said fairly. 'I recall Professor Slughorn waxing philosophic about Lily Evans, she must have been quite bright.'

'Well _she_ was, but you're forgetting James Potter. A dunce, among other things.' And then they both laughed, as if sharing a private joke.

Draco, knowing his time was drawing to an end, began his conclusion. He felt, as he went back to his seat, he had said all he could. Let Potter do his worst.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Harry had a great deal more hesitations and silence but Draco conceded he was a decent speaker and could at least hold the attention of those gathered. He didn't try to fabricate any special relationship with Snape, merely said the man had loved his mother and sacrificed himself for Harry and he only wanted to try and learn more about him. 'Draco got all those years to see the real Snape and he'll always have those memories, but I never did and I'd just love to have something to remember him by.' And then it was over and they had to file outside to await the verdict. Harry was there with Hermione Granger.

Draco stood awkwardly to one side while Hermione told Harry how well he'd done. A passing ministry official stopped to talk to Draco, thanking him for a wedding gift. It was so easy to switch moods and make small talk with somebody who was basically a stranger. 'Vita should be sending out the thank-you cards soon,' the man said. 'I don't suppose you've heard but we're expecting an addition around Christmas.'

'Oh congratulations!' and so on for a few minutes, exchanging pleasantries, asking after his parents and then it was just Draco and the other two again alone. He made eye contact with Harry but didn't change his expression.

'Er, you don't know how long these things last, do you?' Harry said. Draco surveyed him coldly before looking toward the high ceiling and saying, 'Usually only five minutes but there must be a discussion for it to last this long.'

There was silence and then Hermione began reassuring Harry again, in a quiet, soothing, still perfectly audible voice. 'Don't worry Harry,' she said, touching his arm. 'You've got a good chance. I think it's what he would have wanted.'

Draco couldn't let that rest. He glared at her. 'As if _you_ would know what he wanted,' he said.

'Hey back off,' Harry said, straightening up.

'Snape _died_ to save Harry,' Hermione said.

'Mmhm and I'm sure that endeared you to him _so much_. Though if we're getting into that he killed Dumbledore to save my soul or something.'

'Even so–'

But she was interrupted when the door opened; the verdict was ready.

They all assembled in a neat little line and the man with the scroll announced, 'Potter.' The council weren't required to give any details and they signed the deed over to Harry there and then. Draco remained entirely motionless, his face a careful mask. It was out of the question that he would act disappointed or resigned. He wondered for a second if it was worth appealing the decision but knew his father would dismiss the suggestion offhand; Malfoys didn't fuss like that. This still didn't stop him feeling angry and he felt a burning hatred surge through him. He had been truly hopeful of getting to go back and see Spinner's End again and now instead it went to Harry. What an unhappy turn of fate.

There was a reporter outside to get a few quotes for the bulletin that would appear at the back of the Prophet. 'How do you feel about the verdict Mr Malfoy?'

Draco, knowing exactly how the system worked, said in a most robotic and dreary voice; 'The House of Malfoy accepts the council's decision with regret and has no further comment.' The journalist jotted the quote down in a poor shorthand. 'You're Amitticus Horowitz' younger son, aren't you?' Draco asked. The man nodded. 'I've got a message for your father, let me find my notepaper and I'll write it down for you.' He knelt to write on his knee and the younger Horowitz moved on to Harry to get his statement. Harry was much more enthusiastic than Draco. 'We're thrilled. Snape was really close to my mother and I only wish I'd got a chance to know him better.'

He went on in this vein for some time until Draco felt compelled to interrupt. 'He only has six lines to fill Potter, not the whole paper,' he said. 'And here's that bit for your father, tell him it's about the Macnair auction.' Horowitz nodded seriously and hastily gathered his belongings before hurrying off. Draco and the others made to do the same.

'You were good in there Draco,' Harry said. Since when had he dared to call him Draco?

'Obviously not good enough.'

'We'll take really good care of the house.' Why were they still speaking? Why did the blasted court chambers have to be about six miles below ground? He briefly regretted waiting for the lift rather than suffering the stairs. 'Ginny and I were planning to move in for September.' They were in the lift now and Draco turned to face him, scrutinising Harry's open, easy–to–read expression.

'Are you actually just doing this to piss me off Potter?' he said coldly. Could anybody really be so stupid to think he would be _happy_ to hear of Harry moving into the house?

'Look Malfoy, we all really appreciate what Snape did for us, we all think the same, there's no reason for you to be so rude.' It was Hermione again, being smart for her friend.

'Oh don't assume for a second we're on the same page Granger,' Draco began. 'You lot need to turn Severus into some hero to feel respect. You act like all the times you irritated, infuriated, pestered, misjudged, _abused_ him never happened. You know if we brought him back to life this instant he'd still hate you. You might be grateful to him but you can't honestly say you miss seeing him around. I actually liked him. I thought he was funny and I really wouldn't have changed anything about him.' He was happy to get the last word because at that moment a man stepped into the lift. 'Ah Mr Malfoy,' he said, as if their meeting had been designed.

'Have we met?' Draco said, barely acknowledging the other man.

'Chester Van Santen, I was hoping you might put a good word in for me about–'

'Not interested,' Draco said. 'I'd suggest you stop at this floor and take the stairs.' The colour drained from the Van Santen fellow's face and he did as he was told.

'You really are a most unlikeable person Malfoy,' Harry said. His voice was, as ever, brimming with his emotions, letting it be known that he thought Draco a worm at the bottom of a dungheap. It rather made Draco proud, to know he had the power to make Harry so angry just by being rude. Of course, he didn't say any of this, only glanced sideways and said, 'Am I?'

'Yes. But Snape seemed to like you and…if you're up for it you should call round to Spinner's End and pick out a few things to keep.'

This was so thoroughly astonishing that Draco had nothing to say. He couldn't bring himself to say thank you and he knew they were getting close to the atrium. 'That's very decent of you Potter,' he said, the words catching in his throat.

'You could drop by tonight.'

Hermione was looking shocked, more at the amiable conversation than by her friend's offer.

'I'll be there after lunch.' There was a short awkward pause until Harry gave a nod and then the lift made a noise to indicate they had reached their destination. 'Well, best be off,' Draco said. 'People to see, money to count.' He gave a tight smile and walked off in the opposite direction than the other two. At least he could tell his father the day hadn't been a complete failure…though he still wasn't looking forward to seeing Lucius' reaction.

* * *

><p>Once back at his flat he penned a quick note to inform his mother that they'd lost and then sent it over to the manor. His father and Seth weren't due home until the following day so there was time for some work before he'd have to face his sire.<p>

He sat at his desk with a few books and letters from various experts trying to work out much he'd be willing to pay for the giant skull from the Macnair catalogue. And what it would take to make sure Horowitz didn't go for it as well. Only as soon as he had everything laid out nicely the fireplace flared up and his father appeared. He stood up quickly and a number of reasons why Lucius had arrived so unexpectedly came into his head, each one more unlikely than the other.

'Is everything alright?'

'No, not at all. We need to go to Hogwarts and you're coming with me. Come on, we'll apparate.'

Draco, though still utterly perplexed, had the good sense to obey his father when he was in such a state. He took his wand from the table and followed Lucius downstairs. There was an apparition point in the swanky apartment lobby and they both went past the doorman and straight for the boundaries of Hogwarts. 'Will you tell me why we're here now?' Draco asked.

Lucius, still very agitated and walking much faster than ordinary, tripped over his words. 'There's some kind of problem with Seth,' he said. 'I'm afraid he– well; we need to check the school records.' As they grew closer to the doors of Hogwarts he forced himself to slow down and compose himself. Taking his lead, Draco did the same and they went in silence to the headmistress' office and Lucius summoned a house-elf to inform her she had visitors.

They were duly let in and the old Scottish witch was sitting behind the Dumbledore's desk, pinched and lined as ever. Lucius, in a silky smooth tone, apologized for intruding. 'I need to see the school entrance roll for 2010,' he said. McGonagall looked confused.

'I surely can't allow that Mr Malfoy.'

'Why not?'

'Well, we've never released information like that to the public.'

'I am not the public. I don't need to remove it from the office or it's case or whatever bloody else.'

'I am very sorry Mr Malfoy but we cannot possibly risk it being tampered with.'

'Why would he possibly want to mess with it?' Draco said, his temper rising. He still hadn't worked out quite why his father needed to see it but McGonagall had always annoyed him.

'Perhaps…removing the names of muggleborns or something.'

Lucius, frustrated beyond words, fixed her with a death glare. Draco controlled himself. 'We'll put our wands on the desk and hands behind our backs,' he offered. McGonagall was still obviously uneasy but had no solid reason to deny their request. She fetched the list, one of ten glass boxes with a scroll laid out in each. The eleventh was still being written, a magical quill poised above the paper, registering each wizarding birth.

Lucius scanned it hungrily several times then let out a stream of expletives before storming out of the office. Draco remained where he stood, ashen and shocked into silence.

'My goodness!' McGonagall said. 'What's got into him?'

'It's my brother, he's not on the list,' Draco said. McGonagall, putting the box back where it belonged, froze. She understood now.

'He's a squib?'

It was painful for Draco to even hear the word. His face drew into an ugly grimace. Even McGonagall, who bore no lost love for the Malfoys, was looking hideously sympathetic.

'It's not the end of the world, things aren't as bad as they used to be for them.'

'It's a shame for the family.' He gave a great sigh. 'You must swear not to reveal this to anybody,' he continued, knowing his father would have said the same thing had he been in his right mind. 'If anybody asks why he's not at school in 2010, say…we don't trust Hogwarts. We're considering private tutors or continental schooling.'

'I will.' He couldn't help trust her. Though really he had no choice. He had nothing left to do except apologise for wasting her time and leave to see what had become of his father.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Lucius wasn't at Malfoy Manor and so Draco was the one to break the news to his mother. 'He came home earlier for only a second and dropped Seth off,' she said, wringing her hands. 'The poor boy is very upset, I thought perhaps Apparition didn't agree with him, you remember how delicate you used to be Draco?'

'I'm afraid it's worse than that,' he said. 'You should sit down.' It was torture to hurt her, see her face crumple as she started to sob. They stayed together for some time. 'They have a squib programme in Beauxbatons,' Draco said.

'We've got to be _so_ careful how we deal with it. If we make any enquiries the papers are bound to discover it. I would die if any of the girls found out,' she said, patting her tears. He wasn't really sure whether he ought to put his arm around her not but he came over all wooden and knew it wouldn't do any good anyways. She quieted down herself after a bit. 'You know they used to fake the death of a squib child once,' she said. Draco balked at the concept. 'Not that we would. I just wonder what your father wants to do. I suppose we'll have to spread the rumour that he's sickly.'

'And when he gets older?' Draco asked.

'We send him to a muggle school. Though that would mean he'd meet a muggle wife and oh! Your father would never stand it.'

'What choice do we have? We can't keep him locked up.'

'We'd lose all respectability though if anybody found out. Oh, everything is _ruined_.'

He comforted her as best he could but she didn't want to be consoled. She'd stopped crying but started back up again, in the pretty way of a well-bred witch. 'This will destroy your father,' she said between sobs.

'I wonder where he is.'

'Probably drowning his sorrows. You know how he gets.'

'Shall I look for him?'

'No, I think it's best I do. He's probably upstairs moping. Perhaps you could take Seth out for a while, he's with Tilly now but I don't like leaving them for long.'

'Yes, I had plans but I'll cancel.'

'Thank you Draco, you are _such _a darling. And Draco?'

'Yes mother?'

'Don't say anything to Seth just yet. We'll tell him when the time's right.'

So Draco, having sent the elf to inform Harry he wouldn't be over that evening, spent a few hours with Seth. It was his sixth birthday and he was in a sulk, with no wand. It all seemed so tragic to Draco. Here was a boy who ought to have the world kneeling at his feet and instead he was doomed to a cruel half–life. He didn't know what lay in store for him. Draco could see that one day Seth would remember his early years as his happiest, when he hadn't yet realised he didn't fit in. Ignorance is bliss and all that.

Except Seth didn't look very happy. He lay on his stomach, having quite decidedly the worst birthday of his life, doing a jigsaw. It was a scene enchanted to move but the characters scurried from his touch because he was hammering the pieces so violently. His eyebrows furrowed to form a deep V on his forehead and his mouth turned down at the corners. Draco, who didn't like to waste too much time on his brother, felt sorry for him. May as well give the boy one last good memory before trying to adapt to life as a muggle.

'Come on, it's your birthday, I'll take you out,' he said.

'Take me out?' Seth said. He already looked a good deal brighter. It was obvious he desperately wanted to be happy.

'Yup. Let's get your coat and tell the house-elf we're leaving.' He hadn't a notion where he could go but he helped Seth with his buttons and boots and instructed Seth to step into the fireplace and go to the Leaky Cauldron.

'Okay, Diagon Alley,' Draco said. 'First …ice–cream. Have you ever been to Fortescue's?'

It was still bright, being a pleasant early summer evening. There was bunting up in celebration of something or other and the street was merry and crowded with shoppers. This was a mercy because wherever Draco went he always seemed to be stopped by somebody who wanted his opinion or charity donation. In the line at Fortescue's he still felt relatively anonymous. Seth order four scoops and almost as soon as he got his fat little hands on it Draco envisaged it smeared all over his the duffle coat or on the ground. He couldn't help but be rather impressed when Seth managed to keep it under control.

They took a stroll down Diagon Alley.

'Was that the whole surprise?' Seth asked, when he'd finished his ice–cream.

'Greedy little bugger aren't you?' Draco said, not particularly bothered by this. It was getting a bit late and Diagon Alley was slowly starting to empty. 'I think, you might be old enough to start Quidditch now. How about a broom?' Surely Seth could still enjoy wizard pastimes even if he was a squib.

'A broom?' It was almost pathetic how excited the boy acted. 'Will you teach me to fly?' and when Draco nodded Seth let out a little squeal. In the shop Draco went for an expensive model and, for good measure, purchased one for himself as well as an ordinary set of balls. Teaching materials. The bill was substantial and when the assistant asked for money he only rolled his eyes. As if he carried that sort of money with him. 'Put it on my father's tab,' he said.

'Oooh Draco, could I get a beater's bat as well?' Seth asked, knowing he was pushing his luck. Draco only shrugged, _may as well be thorough_. Usually when he bought anything he arranged to have them sent home rather than bring them with him. However since they wanted use of them that evening he was forced to carry them. They weren't too heavy but the brooms were awkward and bulky.

'Here, we'll get some dinner and then start flying out on one of the back lawns at the manor.'

'Are we eating at the Leaky Cauldron?'

Draco grimaced. 'I was thinking more along the lines of the Eden or somewhere a bit more…upmarket.'

'But I've always wanted to go to the Leaky Cauldron.'

Draco vaguely remembered harbouring such a wish at about the same age. He shook his head. 'That's not a place for Malfoys. Poor people eat there.' Seth took the news with nothing more than a resigned sigh.

They still had to walk through the pub to get to muggle London and apparate home. It was busy, even for a Friday. There was a simply enormous party of people seated near the door and oh God, there at the end of the table was Harry. Right beside the door, absolutely unavoidable. _Don't look up, don't look up, please just keep your head down Potter…_ 'Malfoy!' Harry cried, though the chatter of the room was so loud nobody turned to notice Draco.

'Potter,' he said coldly.

'This why you blew us off?' Harry said, glancing down at Seth who was holding his new broom and staring at the big family gathering.

'No,' Draco said.

'It's alright, tomorrow's probably better anyways. Gin and I had forgotten this started at six so you wouldn't have had much time to look around.'

'Mmmhmm.'

'It's my niece's birthday, well tomorrow really, but we're celebrating now, see her?'

Indeed there was a little fair–haired girl sitting at the top of the table, her face being wiped by her similarly blonde mother.

'It's my birthday too,' Seth piped up.

'And we've really got to get going,' Draco said. 'I'll be over tomorrow…let's say three.' With a curt nod, it would have caused him immeasurable pain to do anything more, he pulled Seth out of the inn behind him.

* * *

><p>After dinner, hastily assembled by the elves, Draco brought his brother down to the walled vegetable gardens. He chose one which lay empty and once Seth had mastered the rudimentary basics of flying they began to play. They only used quaffles but the little fellow wasn't terrible, aim rather poor but he never fell off and appeared to have no fear of heights. They tossed the quaffle back and forth and Seth was entirely in awe of Draco's flying ability which was pleasing. It was rather fun to have your own personal fan who never grew tired of you and looked as if he knew with absolute certainty you were the most sophisticated, informed, clever person in the universe.<p>

It was quite dark when they finally went back inside and their parents weren't home. According to the elves Lucius and Narcissa had left shortly after Draco and Seth and hadn't said where. Draco put Seth to bed, the boy was practically asleep on his feet, and then settled in the drawing room to wait for his parents. He wasn't worried, not yet when it was only ten, but he needed to be there for them.

He must have dozed off however because it seemed he only blinked and it was midnight and there were his parents climbing in through the Floo.

Happy that neither were drunk or actively crying, he hoped both had gathered their feelings about the squib matter and rose to greet them.

'So sorry we're this late,' Narcissa said. 'We went out for dinner to talk things through. I trust Seth is in bed.'

Draco couldn't help notice his father flinched at the mention of Seth. 'Have you any idea what we'll do?' Draco asked. 'You're not going to…to tell people, are you?'

'No.' Lucius face was stony, impossible to read. 'Out of the question. We only succeed in business because this family is respected. It's all about image. People need to see us without flaw for the reputation to survive.'

'Though I do feel terrible, it feels like we're denying him,' Narcissa said, sitting down carefully.

'There's no other option mother,' Draco said. He only wanted to be reassuring and not anger his father but she began sniffing again.

'Draco's right. We must be careful to keep him out of the public eye. We'll tell people he's sickly, quiet. A bookish boy. Hogwarts is too big and the damp would kill him and he needs sea air.' Lucius was talking in a way that made Draco nervous. The last thing he needed was an unhinged father. 'We'll get him a muggle tutor until he can go to one of their boarding schools.'

'And when he's older,' Narcissa's breath was coming in shaky gasps. 'He'll marry, marry a…' Two small streams of tears glistened on her high cheekbones. 'A…a…'

He knew she was trying to say muggle and decided to quickly take charge and intervene. 'Look, I think it's been a long day and we can talk about it tomorrow,' he said. Narcissa gave another sniff and closed her eyes for a brief moment, then nodded and stood up.

'We are _so_ lucky to have you Draco,' she said and touched his cheek, giving him a watery smile. 'Do you want your old room tonight?'

He hesitated before saying, 'Yes.' Looking from his father, who wore an icy mask, and his mother, who was falling apart at the seams, he knew there was no way he could leave a six–year–old alone with them. Somebody needed to be around to make sure Seth wasn't neglected. If they weren't careful the boy would end up bitter and resentful and when he was of age he'd sell his story to the newspapers and ruin them. It seemed Draco was the only one who was in a position to take control. Suddenly he felt tired and his old bed never seemed so inviting.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**May 2****nd**** 2005**

With the morning came a kind of clarity. He slept til noon and when he went into the drawing room his parents were taking tea together, easy and familiar as ever. It was as if nothing had happened, except perhaps Lucius looked a little grey under the eyes. 'Father, Potter won Spinner's End,' Draco said. How refreshing to talk about something other than Seth!

'Of course.' Lucius scowled and folded his paper, laying it on the low table in front of him.

'However I arranged a deal with Potter – he said I could take a few things if I went over. I said I'd see him at three today.'

'Hmm. Good job. Now what do we want?'

'There's nothing properly valuable I think.'

'Yes, Severus wasn't exactly extravagant, was he? Perhaps you might look through his notebooks or any photographs.'

'Oh, or letters!' Narcissa. 'We used to correspond when he was in Hogwarts. I don't know if he kept mine but they'd be nice to read back. I still have all his.'

And they continued on for a few minutes, talking the Macnair auction and the sale of an estate in Dorset when it began to rain lightly and Seth appeared, hair plastered to his head and boots off.

'Seth,' Narcissa said, as if his very presence shocked her. 'I thought you were in the garden.'

'It's raining,' he replied. He looked mildly confused and upset.

'Oh, of course.'

'I just wanted to know–' Seth began, but he was cut off when Lucius stood up and left the room, as if unable to stomach the sight of his younger son a moment longer. He pushed past Seth in the doorway without saying a word. Seth turned slightly to see his father's disappearing figure. 'Dad!' he called, and got no answer. He looked back to his mother. 'What's wrong?' he asked. Tears sprang to his eyes. 'What's going on?' he demanded, then fled the room himself. Narcissa, who had gone very white and held her breath, rose as if to follow him. 'It's fine mother, I'll do it,' Draco said. She would only make things worse. 'We ought to tell him what's going on anyways.'

First, however, he found his father. Lucius was in his study, brooding, head in his hands. He snapped upright when he heard the door open. 'Oh, it's you,' he said, on seeing it was Draco.

'Seth ran off crying. We need to be more careful with him.' _You _need to be more careful with him.

'I know, I know. I haven't been dealing with this very well. It's so difficult to get my head around it. I just need to let it sink in… he'll never be part of our world, see. A squib… it's akin to being a muggleborn…'

Draco understood and yet felt no sympathy for his father. He expected these dramatics from his mother, Narcissa was emotional and flustered and delicate at the best of times. But Lucius was supposed to be able to snap out of it and compartmentalise, remove his own feelings from the equation. It was unsettling for Draco to see him so dejected and it did nobody any good, nor was it practical. Sure, he needed time but more importantly he had a son who couldn't just be put on hold while Lucius got over the situation. Draco said none of this though.

'I'll tell him,' he offered. 'I can keep him out of your way for today.'

'That would be excellent. What would I do without you Draco?'

Draco only gave a tight smile and went to find Seth, which was not altogether difficult – six-year-old's weren't particularly imaginative when it came to seeking refuge. He was in his bedroom, face down on the four–poster, head buried in the pillows. He'd stopped crying but was still rather red in the face and sniffling his way through the hiccoughs. 'What do you want?' he asked, wiping nose across his hand.

'For you to use a handkerchief, for a start,' Draco said, drawing his own from his breast pocket and handing it to Seth.

'Thanks.' Seth blew his nose loudly.

'Now, we haven't been entirely fair to you. Mother and father are very upset, I'm sure you've noticed.'

'Yes. Ever since none of the wands worked yesterday. I don't like it.'

'Exactly. Something unexpected happened. They didn't work because…well, you don't have magic.'

'I…what?'

'I'm very sorry.'

'Am I a…muggle?

'Well, sort of. Not properly, because your family has magic. The word for it is squib.'

'Forever?'

'Yes.'

His eyes got very wet but he didn't cry, only he avoided Draco's eyes and his nose scrunched up. 'Do I get to go to Hogwarts?' he asked.

'I'm afraid not.'

And then the waterworks began. He was too young to fully comprehend the far–reaching consequences being a squib implied, but Hogwarts was all a young child dreamed of. Draco had no idea how to console him. This was not a role he felt comfortable in; lord, he didn't even like the child! Still, he pulled him into an awkward hug and Seth relaxed into him and he rubbed his back in little circles. 'There are muggle schools,' he said. 'You go off when you're eleven and it's just like Hogwarts, only they learn other things instead of magic.' His voice seemed to quiet the sobs so he searched for something else to say. He had no idea whether any of what he was saying was true but he focused on telling his brother how muggles had plenty of cool things and it would be like having a very special secret.

That was the hardest part, explaining why Seth had to pretend he was a wizard, without letting on that most of the people Malfoys associated with thought squibs were ignorant fools. Magical ability was considered to go hand in hand with intelligence, wealth, a good moral compass and blood purity. If somebody was born non–magical there was obviously a defect there somewhere. At least Seth was still young enough not to question too closely.

He took Seth out on his broom to cheer him up and got an elf to prepare them a picnic lunch. The weather cleared up and they were spared the torture of eating with Narcissa and Lucius.

'You can come along to Spinner's End with me this afternoon,' Draco said. 'Severus Snape's old house.' He couldn't very well leave Seth alone with the two sods in the house. If he did he had a strange feeling he'd return to find Seth flogging his sob story to the papers. He could see it now; '_Malfoy Squib Hushed Up' _or '_Disowned at Six: the Setheus Malfoy story'_. No, much better not to let his parents influence the situation until they had the sense not to make Seth feel even worse than he already did. So far they'd only succeeded in alienating the poor bugger.

* * *

><p>'I don't like the people who own Severus' house,' Draco said. They'd apparated to a quiet alley alongside the canal and began a brisk walk to Spinner's End.<p>

'Is it the man you saw at the Leaky Cauldron?'

'Yes. Harry Potter.'

'I thought he was _good_.'

'He's not mean…you can be nice and brave but still irritating and lazy and stupid.'

Seth nodded seriously, taking each word as gold. As they approached the house he suddenly reached out and took Draco's hand. Draco flinched, but didn't pull away. He reached up and rapped smartly on the door.

Potter opened it. He had worn a suit and proper robes for the court case and looked half decent at the birthday-do for his niece but now, at three o' clock on a Saturday, he looked as though he'd just rolled out of bed. Glasses askew, hair a nest, that ridiculous lopsided grin playing on his face. 'Hi Draco,' he said. 'Little Draco,' he said, looking down at Seth.

Draco felt a tingle of pride as Seth looked coldly back at Harry, gaze never wavering. 'Potter,' he said.

'Gin and I've just been trying to air the place out,' Harry explained, leading them through the hall. 'It's really dusty and there's all mould in the bathroom.'

Draco nodded. 'I'm only really interested in any old photographs, letters from my parents, that sort of thing. They'd all be in the parlour.'

Harry stood awkwardly to one side while Draco scanned the bookshelf. His eyes fell on a large, smooth white stone basin. 'Severus didn't have a pensieve,' he said, pulling it out to examine it.

'Dumbledore gave it to him,' Harry said. 'You're not going to take it, are you?'

'No.' He slid it back into it's place. It wouldn't be fair to take the one thing of value in the house. 'We've got one at home,' was all he said aloud. This was true, though their pensieve had a great long crack in it and made you feel very dizzy after a minute in a memory.

The walls were lined with books, thick heavy volumes. Draco plucked one leather bound, yellowed volume out. 'Look at this Seth, grandfather wrote it,' he said. He opened it on the first page and it was signed with a Christmas message to Severus.

'Do you want it?' Harry said.

'No. We've got a dozen copies at home and it's rather dull reading. All about dragons.' Harry was annoyingly easy to open to. You got the feeling you could say anything and he'd only smile and make a joke. For the man who defeated the Dark Lord he wasn't the least bit intimidating. Draco put the book back.

There was little else of interest in the way of books. The Malfoy library contained most of them anyways, in considerably better condition. The real interest was the plain cardboard box on the bottom shelf with a stack of papers in it. There were old newspaper clippings, dry with age, information leaflets about advances in potioneering, junk mail that offered to cure everything from dragon pox to baldness and an album of moving photographs. He flipped it open.

'If it's got your parents in it you can take it,' Harry said. 'But could I look through it?'

'Mmm…what? Oh yeah.' He made no move to hand the album over, only stayed sitting on the arm of the sofa. Seth craned his neck to see in and Harry came to look as well.

'Who are they?' Harry asked.

'A bloody who's who of Death Eaters.' They were old photos and he felt an odd shiver looking at some of them. They were all so cheerful, a group of young men in the prime of their lives, unaware of the tragedies that lay before them.

'There's dad,' Seth said, stabbing his finger at the photo as soon as Draco turned the page.

'He's the only one in that whole row who's not imprisoned or dead.' He closed the album with a jolt. 'I'll take this,' he said. He put it on the sofa and knelt again to examine the bottom shelf, though he saw Harry pick it up again from the corner of his eye. He found a card he'd made for Severus when he was very small and stowed it in his robes.

'We gave him cufflinks once for his birthday. They're not still around, are they?' he asked, straightening up.

'Oh yeah, the snake ones? They were on the dresser upstairs,' Harry said. 'I'll get them.' Draco winced to hear him thundering up the stairs like an elephant, as if the house weren't fragile enough. He glanced around, taking in the faded mushroomy curtains and sad old carpet. It didn't hurt him half as much as he'd thought it would to be here. Without Severus the place was just like any other. Maybe it was better they hadn't won the court case. Let Harry and his wife sort through the cluttered attic, filled with old Mrs Prince's belongings; she had been a hoarder and it would be filled with all sorts of meaningless junk of no sentimental or monetary value.

Here was Harry thundering down the stairs and following behind him was the Weasley girl holding a baby. Harry handed Draco the cufflinks. They were beautifully made, very expensive, the most pure silver carved into two little serpents. Of course, they were rusted, but a house-elf could see to that.

'Thanks,' Draco said. The baby was staring at him, fingers jammed in his mouth and slobber everywhere. 'Wasn't aware you'd procreated Potter.'

'Wasn't aware you had either Malfoy,' Ginny said.

Draco looked at her, then glanced at Seth. 'Not quite,' he said. 'That's my brother.'

'Oh.'

'The only other thing I was looking for were some letters between my mother and Severus.'

'There's loads of papers at the bottom of the wardrobe,' Harry said, so they all trooped upstairs. Seth sat on the bed beside Harry, who had the baby on his lap and jiggled it up and down enthusiastically. Ginny and Draco were looking through the disorganized collection of old receipts and tabs and bills gathered in a box at the bottom of the otherwise empty wardrobe. Harry, most amusingly, began making small talk with Seth.

'So what age are you then?'

'Six.'

'And it was your birthday yesterday, wasn't it?'

'Yes.'

'Any nice presents?'

'Yes.'

Silence for a few seconds before it began again.

'Do you want to see something cool? James loves this.' Without waiting for an answer Harry drew his wand and conjured a patronus. It was a stag, Draco had heard about it before, and it was quite impressive as it ran around the small floor space of the room. Seth remained passive as the stag tossed it's head back and pawed ground. When it disappeared, Seth said, 'Draco killed one of them once.'

Ginny and Harry's heads both whipped around to gawk at Draco. He bit back a laugh. 'What, haven't you ever been hunting?' he said. 'I'll show you something properly cool, take note Seth,' and conjured his own patronus. He had mastered it after Azkaban, they still retained a few Dementor guards there and though he knew he'd never need it, he wanted the comfort of knowing he had some protection against them.

His was a hawk and it was enormous, huge wingspan and talons. It circled the room and Seth was enchanted by it. He scrambled to stand on the bed and reached out to touch the tips of it's feathers. The baby squealed for it as well, squirming in Harry's arms.

'Nice,' Harry said, when it vanished. 'Bit extravagant.'

Draco shrugged, unable to deny it.

'I didn't know you could make one,' Ginny said. There was an uncomfortable silence. Everyone was remembering a feature in the Daily Prophet on patronus' that said Death Eaters were unable to do the spell.

'Well…I can.' He stood up from where he'd been crouched by the wardrobe. 'Here Seth, you and I should really be going. We'll just get the photo album and go.'

'Are you sure? What about your mother's letters?' Harry said.

'If you find them owl them on to me.'

'What's the address?'

'Just put Malfoy Manor on the envelope. It'll get there.'

All he wanted was to be out of the house as quickly as possible. It seemed the very walls were closing in on him, clawing at the hem of his robes. It was unbearable but he'd be out in a moment, just hurry Seth along the corridor…Just as they were parting the door opened and who should be there but Hermione Granger, Draco physically recoiled at seeing her so suddenly.

She was rather breathless and pink in the face and didn't notice him at first.

'I'm only here to give you the wine for tonight, I told Molly I'd bring some–'

'Aren't you going 'Mione?'

'No. I didn't get the Muggle Studies job, they gave it to some German guy, and I feel wretched anyways and oh, I just can't face it.'

'Are you sure?' Ginny asked, putting a hand on Hermione's arm. Hermione nodded and she was about to take off again when she noticed Draco. 'Oh! Malfoy.'

'Hello.'

And then they had to go through the whole rigmarole of why Draco was there and what he'd taken and there was a trading of insults and he thought he'd never escape the damned house.

'The Weasleys are having a party tonight, you know, Victory Day and everything,' Harry said. 'You could come along if you'd like.'

Draco raised his eyebrows. Had Harry honestly just said that? 'What part of your brain thinks that would be a good idea Potter?' he said. None of the others responded. 'Thanks for Snape's things.' And he swept out of there at last with Seth at his heels. He only waited until he was just outside the gate to apparate. He knew it was rude but he just couldn't help himself.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Things went almost back to normal. Narcissa, if she pretended there was nothing wrong with him, could look after Seth again. His days were divided between basic lessons with her in arithmetic, reading and writing and then hours spent at piano or violin. She had stopped bringing him along when she went visiting and told friends he was unwell and convalescing.

Draco was busy but tried to be home for lunch most days to check up on things. Seth had drawn into himself somewhat, which was worrying, but it was very hard to get him to speak up when Draco knew nothing about children and nobody wanted to listen to him anyways. Whenever Seth spoke Narcissa paid attention but as though she were looking at a poor stray puppy.

'Am I dying Draco?' Seth asked perhaps the Wednesday after he'd received the news. It was close to a week after his birthday.

'No, of course not! Where'd you get that idea?'

'Mother keeps looking at me strange and father doesn't look at me at all.'

Oh God how was a child supposed to make sense of anything at all? The weight of responsibility on Draco's shoulders was getting heavy and he had no idea how to deal with such a situation. 'I know what you mean,' no good trying to deny anything. Narcissa always had a tragedy in her eyes and it must have been torture to have her teaching. 'But they still haven't got used to the idea of you not having magic. They don't know how to act,' he finished, resolving to talk to them again about the situation. He was on his way to his father's office anyways, the Macnair auction was set for the following day and there were several things that needed to be finalised. He'd have to talk to Lucius' about his behaviour.

Seth left, dragging his feet, and Draco knocked on the panelled door. 'Come in,' Lucius called. 'Oh, hi Draco.'

They talked business for about twenty minutes. Then, 'Dad, I think we need to talk about Seth.' An ugly look appeared on Lucius' chiselled face.

'What about him?'

'Well, weren't you talking about getting him a muggle tutor sometime? I had Mr McHenry until Hogwarts.'

'What's the point? McHenry taught you spellwork, potions theory, history and arithmetic. Almost none of that would be of use to Seth and we can't trust anybody to keep the secret.'

'Well he need to do something to prepare him for muggle school.'

'Your mother does the three R's.'

'It's not enough and she's not really comfortable with him now.' He had no tactful way to put it.

'We can't get a muggle in.'

'Yeah.'

'And no respectable wizard would know anything muggle.'

'So what can we do?'

This appealed to Lucius. Draco knew his father liked a challenge. He watched him lean back in his chair, rubbing his chin for an answer.

'Find me a muggleborn.'

'A muggleborn?'

'Yes. I've decided. We'll tell them our…Seth's…situation, swear them to secrecy and they can teach them all that muggle stuff.'

'We can't exactly advertise in the papers.'

'Wasn't there a muggleborn girl who always beat you in school?'

'Granger? But she was one of Potter's cronies - she'd sell the story in a minute. She hates me.'

'I'm sure she loves money though.'

'She's probably got a place in the ministry.' He realised as he said it he was wrong. 'No actually that's not true. She went for the Muggle Studies post at Hogwarts but somebody else got it.'

'Muggle Studies? Perfect. Let's start with an offer of fifteen thousand a year, ten til one six days a week, holidays to be negotiated. You draw up a contract and get her to sign, starting next Monday.'

'Me? But–'

'I don't want to hear it Draco. I just want to get this mess sorted out, forget about it and then go back to our ordinary lives.'

So that was what this was. Lucius was trying to throw himself into denial but he couldn't do it while he was constantly being reminded that Seth was never going to fit in. The only way his parents could deal with a squib son was denial and more denial.

'I'll arrange to meet her after the Macnair auction. But I don't know if she'll agree to it.'

'You will find a way.' He fixed his son with a steely look. 'You may go.'

* * *

><p>The ministry used the Ilford Auction House and Draco was there on time. By now the routine of an auction excited no joy in him; he had tired of it. The ministry put everything on auction to make it 'fair' but in most cases each item was already accounted for through a complex system of bribes and threats. There was quite a poor turnout for the Macnair estate; he'd been a man with few friends. He'd sold anything of value that he'd inherited for money spent on debauchery and drink, and he was easily won over so everything in the catalogue was ridiculously tacky…like the giant skull. Apparently it had sat in his hall, staring down visitors. Gaudy, but Draco had to pay 1000 galleons for it. He already had a possible buyer in the states for maybe five times the price.<p>

He got it for 900. He saw Horowitz, who was known to collect skeletons as a creepy hobby, looking as if he might want it but then seemed to remember their deal and sat back in his chair.

There was little point in sticking around but Draco did, to be polite. There were tea and biscuits after and he made small talk with the important people in the room. McGonagall was there, couldn't remember what she'd bought, and he said hello and so did she and then he caught the eye of a pretty girl across the room and to his surprise she walked straight in his direction. He ditched McGonagall.

'Draco Malfoy,' she said pleasantly. 'Daphne Greengrass with the Daily Prophet.'

'Oh, hi Daphne.' She'd been in his year at Hogwarts and he'd never paid much attention to her but ooh, suddenly he noticed her. Rather a lot of hair, dark and bouncy, with a filled out face and long eyelashes. Usually with the Prophet he said the bare minimum but he couldn't help flirt with her. He was quite rusty, not having pulled out the charm in months, but he asked if she wanted to continue on to lunch and she accepted.

It was so exciting, to discover a new girl. He'd known her since he was a tot of course, though the two families had no ties they spun in the same circles, but now to look at her was a whole new thing. Everything about her was wonderful of course, and she was equally excited about him. The conversation came quick and natural and at the end she promised to go to a party with him the following evening. He had to go, to track down Hermione Granger, but he felt oddly optimistic.

* * *

><p>Pansy Parkinson, who knew all the gossip even about those of low birth, told him Hermione was with that Weasley boy and lived in a muggle house with her parents.<p>

'They're living together?' he repeated.

'Yes.'

'And they're not married?'

'Yes I know. Daddy would have killed me if Marcus and I had tried that but I suppose some people have no moral standards.'

'Quite. Thanks Pansy.'

He kissed her cheek and left. She was a married woman now and had her own elegant house with red brick and a narrow garden.

That was good anyways. He'd been afraid he'd have to visit Harry to find out where she was. And if they'd been living with Ron's parents he'd have to go to the Burrow. He had been there once before, though nobody could prove it. It seemed like a dream now; he'd worn a mask and seen all the wedding guests run screaming. His father had pleaded with him beforehand to just wave his wand and shoot sparks in the air. Lucius had always been afraid that Draco would enjoy it, feed off the screams like some people seemed to do, and cause damage and end up regretting it all. As if he could have even remembered any of his spells.

Still, going to her muggle house was almost as bad. He'd have to show up in person since she would read any letter he sent as callous and unkind. He had no choice but to pay a visit to the Grangers.

Granger herself opened the door, same familiar bushy hair and focused stare. 'Draco Malfoy,' she said.

'Hermione Granger. I was wondering if I might talk to you.'

'About what?'

'A job. Are you alone?'

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 'I can take you in a duel Malfoy,' she said.

'I'm being honest. But could we go inside?' he glanced around him. He was still in his full robes and suit and felt very out–of–place in this meek little muggle estate.

'I'm not letting you into my house.'

'Look I'll leave my wand at the door. I just want to talk.'

Reluctantly she let him step into the hall and he laid his wand down on a table inside the door. Why did he have to be disarmed for anybody to trust him? It did bother him for a moment that she would be armed and him not. But he could still dodge spells without a wand and he wasn't really too far away from his own.

The room she brought him into was quite nice. Chintzy sofa set, upright piano in the corner and leafy potted plant on the windowsill. He sat down in the armchair and she leaned on the armrest of the sofa, still tensed as if she was about to leap into a duel. 'You said you wanted to talk about a job,' she said. It was all he could to be civil when she was looking at him so accusingly.

'Yes. I'm here for my parents. My brother is six and he needs a tutor.'

'A tutor?'

'Yes. You know, reading, writing, spelling, sums, whatever. You said at Spinner's End you didn't get a job at Hogwarts. Well, this is teaching, of a kind.'

'And why me?'

This was where it got delicate. 'It's a very… sensitive situation,' he said.

'Why?'

'I'll have to swear you to secrecy.'

'Alright, I won't tell.'

'With your wand.'

'I've never done it before.'

'Just hold your wand flat in your hand.' She did so. 'And just swear you won't, by any means of communications, repeat what I am about to share with you. And you understand in doing so your wand will break and bad luck will befall you for seven years.' She weighed up her options and then repeated it verbatim.

'Now go on Draco, I'm enthralled.'

He avoided her eyes and sat up a fraction straighter.

'My brother is…a squib. We only found out recently.'

'A squib? How do you know?'

'That's none of your business.' That had come out rather snappier than he'd meant. He took a deep breath. 'He needs to learn all the muggle things, so he won't look like an idiot when we send him off to one of their schools.'

'I understand.'

'So we need to keep this between ourselves.'

'It's so old fashioned to keep a squib hushed up.'

'Oh don't preach about what you don't understand.'

'The poor boy though.'

'You can help him, by being his teacher.'

'What's the pay like?'

Hm. At least she didn't appear completely adverse to the idea. 'Fifteen grand a year for six days a week, ten until one.'

'Not bad. Holidays?'

'My father said they're negotiable but he'll be generous – two weeks for Christmas, two for Easter and three midterms.'

'To start in September?'

'No. Monday. It's bad for a child to laze around all summer. There'll be two weeks off in August.'

'The salary's about the same as a starter at Hogwarts.'

'Yes and you'll have more freedom.'

'And I'll have time in the afternoon for my own studies.'

'So you'll take it then?'

'I – yes. For a two–week trial?'

'Fabulous. Now remember, no telling anybody about Seth's condition. That includes Weasley, Potter, your parents, journalists, ministry officials, dogs, cats. Anybody.'

She raised her eyebrows. She really was most unfortunately plain when you looked at her closely. 'I swore on my wand,' was all she said.

'Alright, just know you're lucky I didn't make you do an Unbreakable. I'll write up a contract and you can come over tomorrow to sign and meet Seth.'

'What time?'

'I've got a meeting with the accountant… say 5?'

'See you then. Goodbye Draco.'

He reached down to take his wand. 'Goodbye.'

Apparating home he couldn't help think Hermione was decent enough outside Hogwarts, when she wasn't fighting battles on behalf of Harry and Ron or sucking up to teachers.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The meeting with the accountant went on late, they were talking about the tax implications of acquiring some land in Kent and it got quite long–winded. He was nervous his parents would scare Hermione off so at twenty past five he pleaded another engagement and Flooed home. The Floo opened up to the drawing room and that's where they were, his parents and Hermione awkwardly sipping tea.

'Sorry I'm late,' he said, hastily waving his wand over his clothes to take away the soot and dust from the Floo. 'Barnes and I were talking about that land near Canterbury.'

'And?'

'There's a ruin on the south field that's listed as historically important.'

'So no good for farming.'

'Yes and it messes up the tax as well.'

'We'll discuss it later.'

'Yes, sit down dear. I'll pour your tea.'

'I'm fine mother.' He sank into an armchair. He had nothing to say to Hermione, his only purpose was to see his parents weren't overly rude. Because now he considered it, he couldn't think of a single other suitable candidate for the job.

'We were talking about curriculum,' Narcissa said.

'Yes. Reading, writing, muggle history, geography, what was the other one you mentioned?' Lucius asked.

'Science,' Hermione supplied.

'Yes, that.'

Seeing Draco's blank look, Narcissa said, 'I don't know what it is either but she said they teach it in muggle schools.'

'There'll be sums as well,' Lucius said. 'Anything else?'

Hermione was keeping notes in a jotter. 'It's not uncommon to have a language. The big schools do French, Spanish, German and Latin. I'm not brilliant but I have some French and–'

'He has a French tutor.'

'He should do Latin as well,' Draco said.

'A wizard never learns Latin,' Lucius said automatically.

'Exactly.'

'Why wouldn't a wizard…?' Hermione asked.

'It messes with spell–casting if you understand them before you've done them,' Draco explained. It was remarkably easy to be civil to her. 'But Seth might benefit,' he continued. 'How else will he remember what spells do?'

Lucius shrugged. 'It can wait until muggle school.'

'The only other thing you might have left out is art, music and drama.'

'He does piano and violin and he'll do speeches and poetry in elocution.'

'And art?'

'I have no desire to see my son become a painter.' He said it coldly, neither he nor Narcissa had been any way friendly, but Hermione maintained eye contact, unabashed. If only she'd lower her gaze or blush they'd be much more taken with her. Draco was beginning to remember why he hated her; that insufferable pride of hers.

'He'll have to do some muggle current affairs. He can't go to school knowing nothing about the world he belongs to,' Draco said.

'Oh Draco don't speak like that!' Narcissa was brimming with tears but he saw Hermione noted it down anyways.

'If that's subject matter dealt with, I want to talk teaching method.' Draco could recognise Lucius was readying himself for a pre–prepared spiel and braced himself for the worst. 'I want no teaching through song, rhyme or anything…namby–pamby. We expect Seth to be well–behaved but if acts up you must not hesitate to use the ruler.' Draco could almost see the mechanics of Hermione's brain; _I will _never_ hurt a child_. 'Draco will arrange any money you need for books, a house-elf can buy supplies,' Lucius finished.

'And the most important thing,' Narcissa said, 'We don't want you filling his head with any…nonsense.'

Hermione's mouth was getting thinner and thinner until it was just a tight flat line.

'Stay away from wizarding history, news, politics, all that.'

'You want me to lie?'

'No. Just keep your opinions to yourself and your mouth shut on some topics. Draco will be there to make sure you don't stray and do anything inappropriate.'

'_What_?' said Draco and Hermione simultaneously. Draco, without realising, sat up straight, leaning forwards as if about to pounce or run away.

'Yes. Your father and I have discussed it. You'll supervise as much as you can.'

'But I'm busy.'

'Draco, it's decided,' Lucius said.

'Why me?'

'Because I said so.'

'I am not my brother's keeper.'

He hated to argue in front of Hermione but he couldn't let this go uncontested; his parents were out of order! They seemed to be outsourcing Seth's care to Draco. He had no love for the boy; he had no desire to get to know him and he _certainly _ didn't want to watch over him and be with Hermione for three hours a day.

Yet he couldn't say that Narcissa or Lucius sitting there with a muggleborn and a squib was a good idea. If he wanted to correct the family and not end up with Seth resenting everybody, he had to keep his parents functioning.

'It's really not necessary,' Hermione said. God, her voice made his blood froth! She was still a busybody, fitting battles that didn't belong to her as if she had anything worthwhile to say.

'It's not up to you Granger,' Draco said. 'I'm done here now. I'll see you on Monday morning.' He was out of the room before remembering the best Floo was in there. Well, he didn't want to use it anyways – he needed the walk to the boundaries of the property to clear his head. However he glanced down and saw Seth. He was half–crouched and in the shadows but still clearly visible. Draco rolled his eyes, instantly remembering similar situations where he'd been caught listening at doors. He could still recall the same frustrated feeling of being out of the loop, never been told anything even when it pertained to himself.

'Is that lady going to be my teacher?' Seth asked, once he saw Draco wasn't angry with him. He fell into step beside his older brother.

'Yeah, probably.'

'Is she nice? You were angry.'

Draco shrugged. No point turning Seth against Hermione this early on. He probably hadn't heard anything specific; it was difficult to make out anything other than vague voices through those old heavy doors.

'Do I have to learn_ muggle_ things?'

'Yes. I'm sure it won't be that bad though.'

'Mm.' Seth didn't sound convinced.

'I'll be there too. I'll get you a present.'

'A present?' Ah, the hopeful spark in the eyes of a greedy child.

'Mmmhmm.' They had reached halfway down the corridor and the door of the drawing room opened. Narcissa, Lucius and Hermione appeared and there were no windows and he noticed Hermione had quite a nice silhouette. People looked quite funny half in the dark and half not.

'Ah Draco, you're still here. And Seth!' A troubled look passed Narcissa's face. 'I thought you were in the nursery.'

'He was,' Draco said simply. 'And I'm leaving.'

'And it's not a nursery. I'm not a baby.'

She smiled patronisingly. 'You'll have a schoolroom now darling. How about you and Draco show it to Hermione?'

'I am not,' Draco said.

'It'll only take ten minutes.'

'I've got Zabini's party.'

'That doesn't start til eight.' Dammit he'd forgot his parents were invited as well. He hated telling them anything about his love life unless he absolutely had to.

'I'm having dinner with somebody first.'

'A girl?'

Oh lord Hermione was smirking.

'No mother a bloody centaur, of course a girl! _Goodbye_.'

Excruciating. Here he was, twenty–four, certainly far too old to be embarrassed by his mother. What was he doing still fighting like a sulky teenager? He'd thought himself so grown–up with his own flat and doing all this worthwhile work investing his father's money but his stupid family still made him feel thirteen again. There was no way he'd bring Daphne to the party if there was any chance at all his mother would be there. Heck, what if _her _parents were there?


	8. Chapter 7

**Alright...two years I uploaded this fic as one big long document. Last year I resolved to split it into chapters and did the first six. Now I am doing another six and will hopefully put up the last six within the next few weeks. I don't expect many people to read but if you do, comment! **

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

Daphne assured him, later, that her parents _would_ be at the Zabini party. They discussed, over dinner at the Tower Wharf, the various degrees of mortifying parents could be. 'I still feel I should drop in for five minutes,' Draco said.

'Is it his birthday?'

'No. His mother's. You know she likes a big celebration for everything. It'll be all her family and so on.'

'Sounds fun.'

'I feel bad for leaving Blaise though. He's one of my best friends.' He paused, toying with the chicken on his plate. 'He'll understand if I tell him I was with a girl.' He smiled, feeling oddly shy. It had been a bugger of a day with the accountant and Hermione Granger and his family all acting like juveniles but he could push it out of his mind now. Daphne. Pay attention to Daphne.

They didn't bother with the party because though the dinner reservations were for eight, they left the restaurant at midnight, neither of them quite sober enough to apparate home. Draco, who lived in London, could get a muggle cab. He hated them and to be honest they gave him the shivers but he had used them on nights out in the past and kept a few muggles notes in his breast pocked for just such occasions.

Daphne, who was rather worse than Draco and unused to the swaying motions of a car, promptly vomited when they reached Draco's street. It was an expensive wizarding road and heavily anti–muggle charmed so the taxi driver felt suddenly uneasy as they approached the corner and let them out early.

'Oh goodness Draco there goes that lovely dinner,' she said. 'I don't think I like those car things.'

'Me neither but s'alright we're here now.'

'Is this where you live?'

'Mmmhmm.' He waved to the doorman sleepily.

'Oh goodness I'm not supposed to go home with boys.'

Rather too late for that when they were halfway up the stairs. 'S'okay, you can use the Floo home. We won't do s–' he hiccoughed. 'Sex.' She began her giggling again, as if they were seven and he'd said a naughty word.

When he got the door opened she vomited again. 'Maybe you won't be able to use the Floo,' he said. There was no way her parents would allow her stay the night. She may have been 25 but for a respectable pureblood to do so meant the sacrifice of her reputation if anybody found out. But she'd never get to the right place with the Floo and she'd end up bruised and throw up again. And if he tried to Apparate there was a good chance that instead of ending up in Twickenham, they'd arrive in Tynemouth, severely splinched. Which would cause a scandal and get his license revoked if he got somebody from the ministry who couldn't be bribed.

Daphne had the answer, brilliant girl that she was, and fire–called her sister. The Greengrass parents were still at the party and the sister, Astoria, agreed to Apparate to London and take her home. Then it was Draco's turn to add another pinch of Floo powder and give directions. The street he lived on was reasonably well–known and she said she'd been there before and it'd only take five minutes. He got a nice view of the Greengrass family home. It was nothing grand but had a definite air of elegance about it. Just like Daphne… who lay across an armchair pulling at his hair. He helped her upright. 'You need to be slightly more sober for Astoria,' he said. And then they kissed. It was a knee–trembler and he had no time to be nervous until it was over.

'We ah, better go if Astoria's waiting,' Draco said. Daphne got her coat and bag and drank a glass of water and tried to blink herself sober. Astoria was in the lobby downstairs; you couldn't Apparate within the flat. Draco had literally just pulled away from her sister but he couldn't help checking out the second Miss Greengrass. She was a good deal taller than Daphne and thinner but there was still a hint of resemblance. She seemed disapproving and Draco couldn't help but try to win her over and apologise. She was younger than him but he found himself using the parent lines – 'We just lost track of time,' and, 'It won't happen again.' It worked with her and she just rolled her eyes and shook her head and put her arm around her sister. 'Come on Daph,' she said good–naturedly. Daphne, who by now was mostly able to function, took Draco's hand and told him she had a wonderful time and he kissed her on the cheek and watched the two girls Apparate home. It had turned out a good day.

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><p>Draco slept most of Saturday answered a few owls, scanned the papers. He went into Diagon Alley to find a present for Seth as he'd promised. He'd been planning to buy a piece of chocolate for the kid, which he did. Only then he was walking past a shop and caught sight of a brightly coloured quill and a loud, persuasive part of his brain said <em>Ooh that's cool<em> so he went in and bought the children's no–splash easy–use quill and several fun looking, over–priced bottles of novelty ink. He had to stop spending so much money on the kid but it was like as he walked he noticed all the amazing things available for children. He was in Madame Malkin's seeing about a suit he'd left in when he noticed a roll of fabric with a dragon pattern. He had already imagined asking Tilly to run up a pair of pyjamas when he stopped himself. He would have no idea what length of fabric to even ask for. Seth had plenty of clothes and didn't need any presents. Draco had no desire to see his little face alight and clasp them to his chest and say, 'Oh I love dragons!' Better just to leave the shop now, the queue was so bloody long. He'd call back another day. The suit was probably beyond repair anyways.

He had no plans for the evening but he thought it would be only polite to call over to Blaise, after he hadn't gone to the party. He Flooed over. Blaise was living in the city working for the ministry and living in a crappy apartment nowhere special. 'I was with Daphne Greengrass,' Draco told him, by way of explanation. 'Do you remember her? She was in Slytherin, kind of small, brown hair?'

Blaise shrugged. 'They're all the same in my memory,' he said. 'You could've brought her along.'

'My parents were there.'

'So were mine. If I have to get drunk in front of my parents so should you.'

'Oh shut up Blaise. What do you want to do, fight me?'

'Alright.' Blaise shrugged.

'Do you have enough space for a duel?'

'Probably, if we move the table.'

So they did. There was no venom in their duelling. Draco knew well Blaise held no anger but just wanted to be a dick and duelling was a good way to pass the time on a Saturday night. They'd duelled many times, when they were angry or bored or had a bet, but not particularly recently. Draco won out in the end though he got a nasty burn all along his right arm which made spell–casting slightly uncomfortable.

'We were meant to be using Swiss rules,' Draco said irritably, after they'd shook hands. He ran the tip of his wand over his arm.

'I did. _Exurere_ is allowed in Swiss rules. You won anyways. Where did you learn that flicky one that hit me in the chest?'

'A book. It's an adaption of something goblin.'

They kept talking and Blaise got him a beer and they sat with the radio and talking duelling. Draco took a sip of beer. 'Eugh, what is this?' Draco said with a grimace. 'It tastes like piss.'

Blaise squirmed. 'It's muggle beer.'

'How do they make it?'

'I don't know, something to do with barley. It takes a while to get used to it.'

'I never thought you'd be one to lower your standards.'

'Muggle food is cheaper. Not all of us have Malfoy money behind us.'

'What happened to Zabini money?'

'I've got a new step–dad and he's not exactly a fan.'

Oh. Draco hadn't even known. 'I never heard about the wedding,' he said.

'They didn't have a big ceremony, not a lot of people know… it's pretty embarrassing telling people. Don't spread it around too much.' Draco felt bad for him. Blaise could be stuck–up and had a rather disturbing superiority complex but he was probably Draco's closest friend from Hogwarts though they'd only been friendly back then. He'd improved a lot after school and was always good for a laugh.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

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><p>Sunday night found Draco with Daphne. She was at his place and they were playing cards and she was winning and had her feet on his lap and it was perfect when an owl knocked on the window. 'Odd time for an owl,' she said, withdrawing her feet. He put down his cards and opened the window to untie the clumsily rolled letter. It was very shakily printed with big lettering and read;<p>

_Dear Mr Malfoy_

_I understand you resently bought the skull of a giant and since I beleive it may bee that of my mother i wundered if I could hav it checked._

_Rubeus Hagrid._

'Oh shit,' Draco said, curling the paper in his hand.

'What is it?'

'I've got to talk to my father and go to Hogwarts and… oh just bugger all round.'

'Tonight? At this time?'

'Yeah. It's something I was supposed to be shipping to America tomorrow and now I might not be able…' He ran a hand through his hair. 'I'm sorry you have to go.'

'Oh I have to?'

'Well yeah, you have to! What do you want to do, stay here?'

'Couldn't I wait for you?'

'Um, no.'

She looked so prim and royally peeved and he knew he'd have to make it up to her but right now he couldn't care. Let her overreact. He changed into full business suit and walked her downstairs and Flooed to Malfoy Manor to inform his father of the situation.

'Blast the half–breed,' Lucius said. 'With any luck it won't be his mother.'

'Does he have grounds to own it?'

'Why would he want it in the first place? Giants aren't exactly known for being maternal. We should be okay if he's not smart enough to go to the press.'

'Can he prove it's hers do you think? Where did Macnair even get it?' they had apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. Lucius looked uneasy.

'Macnair used to talk about hunting the big five; centaur, muggle, dragon, giant and unicorn. The official story is he bought it from a giant colony but I find that doubtful.'

The thought was repulsive. Draco had been vaguely aware that muggle hunting happened occasionally at estates in Transylvania and it had never appealed to him. The others though, weren't they protected? Killing muggles and centaurs was just cold–blooded murder. He liked hunting and fishing but this was far, far worse, to kill smart and rare things for sport… An image of a stuffed unicorn above the fireplace came to mind. Horrible.

They were now headed toward Hagrid's hut. Dusk was just falling and the windows glowed merrily.

Hagrid was surprised to see them, though it was difficult to make out his expressions under the bush of wiry greying hair all over his face. 'Mr Malfoy! And Draco!' he said. 'I weren't expectin' yeh to come tonight.'

'Draco received your letter and came to see me immediately. You think the skull we bought belongs to your mother?'

'Yeh yeh. It's suppose to come from her colony see 'nd ther weren't many full grown females there so I thought…'

'Mr Hagrid the skull is supposed to change hands and be sent to America tomorrow. Financially we can't afford to delay.'

'Hey now Malfoy this is my mother we're talkin' about 'nd she deserves a proper burial s'not right to go sellin' 'er on fer parts.'

'Hagrid it's for medical research,' Draco said.

'Nd I spose yer not makin' a profit?'

There was a silence and neither Malfoy could deny it was going to be a very happy business transaction.

'I'll take this ter court if I have to Malfoy.'

'Now now there'll be no need for that. We'll delay shipping and run some diagnostic tests tomorrow morning if you could come down to the docks. There's a large warehouse along the Thames and it's being stored there.'

'No can do Malfoy I got me firs' years to teach 'nd it's comin' up to exams.'

'Don't you have half an hour free at some point?'

'Takes me longer ter travel than that, can't Apparate or Floo.'

Lucius let out a frustrated sigh. 'Give us a moment,' he said and stepped a few feet away with Draco.

'What's the profit we're making on this?' he asked.

'About four thousand.'

'It'll cost us far more to lose the sale than it would to bribe the Prophet so.'

'That's the way you're thinking?'

'It's nothing illegal Draco; we bought it off the ministry for goodness sake. I've seen plenty of human skulls bought and sold with less fuss.'

Draco shrugged and they both turned. Lucius said there would be a problem; that he wasn't sure if he'd be able to cancel his space in the ship's hold, it left very early in the morning; the skull was probably already sealed and packed. Maybe it had sailed already.

Though it was dark Draco could see Hagrid's face going red but he was unsure whether he was more upset or angry. They made their excuses to leave but as they did so Hagrid called out, 'This isn't the end 'er this Malfoy!'

'Let him makes his threats,' Lucius said without breaking pace. Once out of the school grounds they talked for a few minutes and then parted ways, Lucius to the manor and Draco to London. It was only ten o' clock and he felt rotten inside. It was just underhanded, un–wizardly, unfair what they'd just done. His conscience was making a bid for freedom and it played out in his head that Narcissa had died and somebody was selling her skull. He knew it was bad, he knew it was bad and yet the idea of not going through on the business deal... it would have been a big mark of failure. He liked making money. When all these feelings crowded inside him, there was only one thing to do and that was go out and get utterly out of his head.

He called over to Blaise who agreed to go to the pub for half an hour if Draco lent him money but after that he needed to go home because work began bright and early on Monday morning. Draco hoped to convince him to stay out longer and it seemed promising, they were talking to two girls and he was thinking _Screw Daphne_ when Blaise announced he _really_ did have to go. Draco could remember waving him off and after that… completely blank.

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><p>He awoke at ten o' clock in his own bed, or rather on his own bed because he never made it under the covers. He stank of sweat and booze. He was meant to be at the manor. He struggled into the bathroom, pounding headache and cold shivers running along his back. The shower didn't do much good and when he got out he noticed how horrible he looked. On his left arm there was the Dark Mark, which still looked sore and tender after all these years. His right upper arm was burnt and red from the duel and he had a throbbing black eyes. The places on his body that weren't sore were pinched and grey. He looked and felt like shit.<p>

The Floo made him feel even more disorientated but thank God there was nobody in the drawing room to notice him lurch out, much dirtier than normal. With any luck he wouldn't see his parents and he'd be spared his mothers comments. Oh lord, why did the manor have to be so huge when his legs were so shaky? He could hear the low mumble of Hermione's voice; they were started in the schoolroom. The door was slightly open but he knocked anyways before walking in. 'Hi. Sorry I'm late, just ignore me,' he said. Hermione's eyes widened as she took in his appearance.

'Draco!' Seth said eagerly. 'Did you remember my present?'

'I did.' The word ended in a yawn. 'I'll give it to you later.'

The setup of the room hadn't changed since Draco had been taught there. A desk for teacher and a desk for the pupil facing each other with a bookcase to keep all materials. At the back of the room there was an arrangement of sofas and an armchair along with another desk and bookcase in the corner. He hadn't brought any work with him, though he'd intended to. Instead he just lay on the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to spark his memory.

After Blaise had left, he'd seen somebody he knew… a group of people… he'd gone on somewhere after the pub… Hermione was telling Seth what each of his copybooks would be for… her voice didn't grate on his nerves half so much as he thought… what nightclub had it been? There were only two of any quality for wizarding London; one called _500_ and the other _Maureen Lowell_. Oh it was hopeless. He summoned a house-elf to bring him parchment and ink and wrote a short letter to Pansy Parkinson along the lines of, '_Did you see me last night? I can't remember anything_,' and told the house-elf to send it promptly. 'And bring me some tea,' he added. When the house-elf had disappeared he glanced at Hermione and she was giving him a thoroughly disapproving glare. 'What?' he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to get his brain to wake up.

'I don't think it's right to keep a house-elf,' she said. She sniffed.

'Well boo to you. Don't listen to her Seth; she doesn't know a thing about house–elves. Go back to the alphabet Hermione.' This was precisely the reason he was there; to make sure Seth didn't wind up with all these mad ideas.

He had tried to remove the black–eye hastily, half–dressed in the bathroom at his flat with very little effect. He did it again and some of the puffiness vanished. When he'd got his tea he asked the house-elf to fetch his mother's copy of _Common Household Healing Spells_. He settled down and the tea was so good and sweet he couldn't help stretching out for a little snooze. Hermione was only testing Seth to see what he already knew and she wouldn't dare start on any propaganda when he was lying right there. He had begun to drift off, he was _so_ tired, when the house-elf reappeared with the book. He half–opened it and flicked through it. There was something for burns… he could try that later… you needed two people for it though, but Hermione was clever… She could help…

Draco awoke much refreshed, just in time for elevenses. A little table had been set up with three chairs and there was milk for Seth and tea for the adults and scones for everyone. Draco took his time yawning and stretching while the other two sat down. 'Eugh, scones,' he said.

'What's wrong with them?' Hermione said.

'Nothing of course. They're just boring.'

'They are?' Seth asked. He'd been spreading jam over his and paused, knife in midair.

'Only compared to your present!' with a grin and a flourish Draco revealed the box wrapped in crimson paper and tossed it to his brother. Ah, the squeals of a giddy child. 'Open it,' Draco urged.

'I want to _savour_ it.'

'It's nothing special now, don't get your hopes up.'

But oh the present didn't matter; it was the tearing of the paper and saying thank-you and rushing over to the desk to try out the new ink. Hermione was looking at him in a very tender way that made him cringe right to the core of his bones. 'Shut up,' he said, and began to eat.

'Are you going to tell me how your eye got that way?' she said primly.

'No. Can't remember.' Why did he feel so compelled to tell the truth? 'It'll come back to me.'

'Do you want me to have a go at healing it?'

'No it's fine; I've got a cream at home that's really good for them. I've got a burn you might help me with though.' He shrugged off his suit jacket and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, pulling it aside to show her the blistered skin.

'I suppose you don't remember how you got this one either?'

'This is from Friday with Blaise.'

'Hot night?' When had she learnt how to smirk?

'Oh shut up we were duelling. I won.'

She rolled her eyes. She was still examining his shoulder, touching it lightly with her wand. 'It's quite deep. You'll need to take off your shirt.'

'You can tell that?'

'I'm quite good with burns. I did consider becoming a Healer.'

'Why didn't you? I mean teaching isn't exactly glamorous.' Ooh he'd offended her. 'I only meant, I always reckoned you'd do something that paid a bit better.' He hadn't done himself any favours, her nose was scrunched as if she wanted to get angry. Then she sighed.

'I don't know. I don't know what I want to do. I'm trying to save some money for a bit; I'd like to start a charity.'

'For what?' he very much wanted to know. She wouldn't be doing something everybody did, like helping poor people. He knew she'd be interested in something very specific.

'Just take off your shirt.'

He did so, removing it halfway so only his right arm was revealed. He hadn't put any bandages over his Dark Mark and he didn't want her to gawk at it. 'What's that?' Seth asked, reaching up to touch the burn. He had already gotten over the initial novelty of his present and spilt the invisible ink.

'Blaise hit me with a spell on Friday night.'

'Did you duel?'

'Yup.'

'Did you win?'

'Yup.'

Hermione was reading the page that detailed how to heal a burn with the same concentrated look as one cramming for the NEWTS.

'I'll never get to duel,' Seth said with a pout. He crossed his arms and frowned.

'Yeah.' No point sparing the kid. Seth would have to get used to being disappointed in life; there were a thousand things Draco could do that Seth would never share in. 'Muggles fight as well though, in a different way.' Something was coming back to him from the previous night. It occurred to him that it was odd that somebody had punched him and not hexed. He hadn't physically brawled since Hogwarts. Only kids and idiots who couldn't do much with a wand fought with fists.

'Like how?' Seth asked.

'I don't know… Hermione? Don't muggles fight?'

'Hm? Oh yes, plenty. They box and wrestle and they have all sorts of dreadful weapons.'

'See? You'll have plenty of opportunity for fun.'

'Oh Seth don't tell me you want to end up like this,' Hermione said, gesturing around at Draco. 'It's so _stupid_ and dangerous to boot.'

'I do,' Seth said defiantly. He stuck out his chin.

'It's not as if we're rolling on the ground pulling each other's teeth out. You have rules and bow and all that,' Draco said.

'Oh so that's alright then.'

Draco rolled his eyes and did a snide little impersonation under his breath and Seth giggled.

'You can heal your own arm if you're going to be such a berk,' Hermione said. She shut the book and put it on the table.

'Oh don't be like that,' he said. The burn was still prickling uncomfortably. She took no pity.

'Seth finish your milk and then we're going back to work.'

Draco stuck out his tongue as he began buttoning his shirt and Seth laughed again. An owl rapped on the window and he crossed the room. It was bound to be Pansy. If she had for some reason been at home last night, he was at a loss. Luckily her response could shed some light on the situation. He scanned it;

'_I saw you at 2am outside Maureen Lowell's. You were drunk and with some people I didn't recognise. I was with Goyle and Marcus, only Goyle started picking fights, you know how he gets. So I went home. Also I was talking to Daphne and she is properly peeved.'_

'Oh shit.' It was all coming back to him.

'What is it?' Oh Hermione was trying not to sound rabidly curious but she was failing. It was delicious.

'I remember what happened last night. I stayed at the pub after Zabini left and made friends with some bloke and then we decided to go on to Maureen Lowell's and they wouldn't let us in only then I saw Goyle and he decked me one and I hexed him and then we went again and… Oh lord, I think I remember going to Daphne's house.' He groaned. He rarely got really properly drunk and when he did it was usually with friends and he did stupid things in the safety of a velvet–walled nightclub or the games room of a country house. He had never gotten into fights or turned up at a girl's house at 4am. Oh lord, he might have _cried_.

Hermione looked at him pityingly. 'Don't ever drink,' she said to Seth. 'Good luck sorting it out Draco.' And then she was back tracing letters in big, pleasing print on blotting paper. And Draco was left to wonder how much he wanted that strange almost–relationship he and Daphne had.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

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><p>Draco went along to the headquarters of the Daily Prophet with his father in the hopes of seeing Daphne. It was a rather grotty building, nothing glamorous, all printing machines on lino and bad coffee and interns who looked like Inferi. No sign of Daphne. The editor's office was barely better than the cubicles and with three men inside there wasn't a lot of room left.<p>

'I heard the story alright,' Mr Waugh said. He took off his glasses and folded them into his front pocket.

'Did the giant complain?' Lucius said.

'No, one of our freelancers brought it up at a meeting this morning. Don't know how she heard of it but she said she could interview the groundskeeper.'

Draco's heart sank. He did not let it show. 'Was it Daphne Greengrass?'

The editor's eyes widened. 'Yes it was.'

'She's an ex–girlfriend. I daresay she blew it out of proportion without even investigating properly.'

'I do recall her writing some very complimentary things about you after the Macnair auction,' Lucius mused.

'It's a very recent split. I understand she's upset but that doesn't mean you can let her publish slander,' Draco said.

Ah. Slander. The magic word to make an editor bend to your will. Lucius and Draco had gone in expecting to bribe and cajole and offer some exclusive gossip in exchange for keeping the Hagrid thing quiet. Instead the editor was putty in their hand all because Draco happened to know the journalist in question personally and could establish good grounds for a court case. Life was sweet sometimes.

Of course, this meant seeing Daphne again was out of the question.

'Pity about the Greengrass girl,' Lucius said. He sounded very upbeat though; he tapped his cane along the skirting boards as they made their way out of the building. 'Your mother will be disappointed. Would've made a good match, you know I've heard wonderful things about their house in Cornwall.'

Draco said nothing. It was true; he had hoped the initial joy of a new girl would give way to something more lasting and he could stop worrying about finding a wife and producing an heir. Lucius was oblivious to Draco's glum expression and went on, 'With Seth out of the picture you need to get a move on Draco. You'll be twenty–five in a few weeks and people start to match up. If you're not careful you'll be sidelined.' Perhaps he _should_ go back and see if Daphne would forgive him for ditching her and then turning up at her house drunk. Pretend he didn't even know she'd tried to ruin his name and paint him as a heartless bastard in the Prophet. Sigh. Relationships.

Once at home he penned a letter to her apologizing profusely and asking to meet for dinner. There weren't exactly many suitable, available women around and he couldn't throw away this relationship just because Daphne had tried to ruin his reputation in a national newspaper, could he?

He made out a final draft, added an extra '_sorry'_ and an oh–so–suitable _'I miss you already'_ and '_I thought we had something special_' (was that too much?) and then sent it on.

Only maybe he'd underestimated her stubbornness because by the time he went to bed there was still no reply.

* * *

><p>Life rolled on. A business bankrupted and Draco lost a chunk of money. A set of stocks went up. Seth fell off his broom when Lucius and Narcissa were out and Draco took him to St Mungo's. They were less than sympathetic. 'What is a boy like you doing on a broom anyways?' Lucius said. Draco flinched. Lucius was downright cruel sometimes. They had never been very loving parents, now that Draco considered it. There was more a <em>fondness<em> than a direct line of support and love. They had never been much into hugs and kisses, but there had been pats on the head at the very least. They expressed themselves through the buying of things; Lucius had shown Seth off, had doted on him with new clothes and toys and all that. How had his feelings hardened so suddenly? Did he really have the power to turn his love on and off like a tap?

Draco, who was slowly coming around to the idea of maybe _liking_ his brother, couldn't stand to see how it upset Seth. How could Narcissa, who had taught Seth patiently and carried him and dressed him, how could she stand by coldly while Lucius tore him down? She mostly ignored him, giving him no guidance and yet expecting him to act perfectly. Draco knew Seth was fed and clothed and supervised by the house-elf, but no responsible parent left a child with a house-elf for more than ten or fifteen minutes. House–elves were pre–occupied with their chores and didn't watch children properly and anyways, it was a very unhealthy relationship to foster. Draco did not like it one bit.

He took to bringing Seth out with him in the afternoons. At first he didn't like it much but actually he began to enjoy the company. When he was getting irate letters or trying to figure out the value of an enterprise it did him good to get out for a walk and see a chirpy round face, not dissimilar to his own. It came to the stage where he could no longer deny he had legitimately come to enjoy being a brother. How had it sneaked upon him? He could still see annoying Seth was, he still flinched when he saw sticky handprints all over the glass, but it just didn't bother him so much. And that made it extremely difficult to ignore the situation at the manor.

It was disturbing to hear his parents speak about Seth. 'What did I do wrong?' Narcissa asked. 'The pregnancy felt just the same as yours and you turned out fine.' He wanted to shake her. They stood in the corridor, he was on his way to the schoolroom and she'd stopped for a moan. 'It's not like that mother, it just happens,' Draco began. 'And you must stop being so negative, it's really–'

'Oh but I can't even look at him! Lucius and I have discussed it and we don't understand, how can something so _vile_ as a squib come from us? Malfoy and Black, the two strongest families and–'

He didn't want to hear this. How often had she harped on about the quality of Draco's blood when he was young? And what good had it done? It had only bloated his ego, told him to be proud of something over which he had no control. And it made all their compliments seem cold and unfeeling, knowing all praise would be obsolete if he'd turned out like Seth. So he cut off her speech, 'Mother, it's almost ten. Hermione will be here soon and I really have to go.'

Narcissa had tears in her eyes. What right had she to cry? She sat in a big house with food in front of her and a husband and two sons, all of whom loved her. She had friends who visited and everybody admired her and there was enough money to keep her in trinkets and dresses til she died. Let her know real pain before she cried.

Draco ignored her tears, only said, 'Look, here's Hermione now.'

Hermione still had to Apparate to the gates each morning and be escorted through the house with an elf. Lucius and Narcissa maintained they couldn't trust her with access to the Floo. 'Hello Draco, Mrs Malfoy,' she said. Narcissa said nothing and Draco nodded. It would have been fine if only Hermione would move on to the schoolroom, but she had too much pride to shuffle past like a servant. She just had to make conversation.

'I've got a really good lesson planned for today.'

Narcissa gave a condescending half–smile and made it clear she was thinking about something else.

'I've got a muggle newspaper and I'm going to go through it and see, the photos don't move so I thought–'

'Miss Granger I have better things to be doing. Teach him whatever you want.'

'Mrs Malfoy, don't you want to know how well he's doing?' Hermione was frowning. Draco knew that she had picked up on the Malfoys lack of parenting, of course, but she had to be the nosy busybody and prove it to herself. What was more worrying was that he agreed with her. He could muster no anger towards her because he just as frustrated as her on this occasion. Draco was not somebody who saw suffering and cared… yet here he was, feeling vaguely nauseated listening to his mother.

'Miss Granger, ever since we found out about the squib situation I have been doing my very best to forget about the whole ordeal so I will thank you to mind your own business and get on with teaching.' She wrinkled her nose and swept away. Hermione looked on the verge of tears but she pursed her lips and blinked very hard and strode off with a huff. Draco had to run to match her pace.

In the schoolroom she slammed her books and papers down on the desk. 'How can you stand to hear her talk like that?' she burst out. She used her hands a lot when she was angry and her hair seemed to grow frizzier before Draco's eyes. 'It's just not right! To put Seth down like that when he hasn't done anything wrong! Imagine trying to forget your own flesh and blood… Some children die and their parents are left alone, there are so many people who _want_ babies and here she is with a perfectly lovely, healthy son and what is she doing?... Oh Draco you have to try and knock some sense into her, to both of them! Surely you can see it's wrong? I know you, you don't act like they do, he looks up to you, he needs you to fight this for him. How can you stand to see him… see him _neglected_ in this way? Because that's what this is you know–'

'Hermione. Calm down.' But he did not want her to calm down. She was very interesting to watch, the way her nostrils flared and her very breath was angry. All that emotion, bubbling there under the surface whenever she chose to tap into it. He had been told all his life that the range of proper feelings went from veiled disappointment to mild amusement, but how could that be true? Here was this woman who had it all on her face and she had a way with words, the way she spoke; it ignited something. She worked you up, she did.

She let out a huff, crossed her arms. There was a shake in her breath. When she could not speak all that feeling was in her from her arms to her legs. So fascinating to watch he couldn't think of a single way to insult her.

'It bothers me as well,' he said. Stupid Draco. That was not the response a speech like that deserved.

'Bothers you? _Bothers you!_ Draco Malfoy how can you watch your little brother be put down at every opportunity and act as though it's just very slightly irritating? You really are the most–'

'Hermione!' Oh why couldn't she see that he wasn't like her, that he didn't have the words? She fell silent, maybe he had conveyed some shadow of his emotions, and he continued, 'I didn't say I wouldn't do anything. I'll do something.'

'You'll talk to them?'

'Wouldn't do any good.'

'Well what then?'

She didn't believe in him. She thought he was just appeasing her, calming her temper. That wouldn't do at all. It suddenly seemed so important that she thought he was fiercesome. A snap decision but it had to be made. 'I'll take him.'

'What?'

'Yeah. I have a spare room in my flat; he can come live with me. They won't put up a fuss.'

'Draco you can't just–'

She stopped when Tilly appeared with Seth at the door. Seth looked glum, as he often did, and it made Draco's mind up. He basically cared for the boy already.

'Come here for a second,' he said. Seth crossed the room, slightly nervous. 'You know mother and father don't really treat you like they used to?' Seth squirmed, embarrassed especially because Hermione was there. Draco paid no attention and went on, 'You're stuck with a house-elf and that's not right. So I think you ought to come live with me.'

The little head snapped up, eyes bulging. 'With you?'

'Yeah. As soon as possible, tonight even. I'll get Tilly to start packing right away.' He was almost bowled over by the force of Seth tackling him with a hug around the waist. 'Is that a yes?' Draco said.

'Yes yes yes yes, a thousand times yes!'

Draco would have gone on and maybe picked him up and swung him around but Hermione was right there so he only ruffled Seth's hair and started giving orders to the house-elf. Then he went to his own desk and the lesson began.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

><p>In the following days Draco bought furniture for Seth's room in the flat and set up the dining room for lessons. He skipped out on watching lessons most of the time, not really bothered anymore whether Hermione preached that muggle–borns were just as good as purebloods and house–elves deserved to be free. What did it matter? Seth didn't have to marry to please his parents and he was never going to air his views in life anyways, let him believe whatever he bloody well wanted.<p>

Draco told his father that Seth would be staying with him now and Lucius barely reacted. 'Good idea, neither your mother nor I have time to be minding him,' he said. 'I'll give you an allowance for him of course.'

'Thanks.' There was a kind of dead feeling inside, that his father would just give up a son like that.

'And you'll see to it about schools?'

'Sure.'

'Of course, Narcissa might like to have him over sometimes. We'll arrange something.'

Draco continued nodding and swiftly changed the topic to business. They were looking in to buying a property in the Cotswolds, house prices were rising very nicely, and wondering whether it was worth visiting before they shelled out. Lucius was so much more pleasant when he talked about business. It was easy to respect a man with so much experience and it seemed to be the only thing Draco had in common with him.

They agreed that Draco would go see the house. First he had other things to do though, he went back to the flat just as Hermione and Seth were breaking for ten minutes. 'Hermione,' he said tentatively. She was usually in a good mood with him nowadays and Seth was much chirpier than usual. 'I need some muggle things,' he said.

'Like what?'

'I need to use an Internet and order a copy of Seth's birth certificate. And when I'm sending away to schools I can't have the letters coming to the house so I'll need a muggle address.'

'And you want to use mine?'

'Yes I'm looking into getting a Post Office box. And to pay for things as well I have some muggle cash but you're supposed to use some kind of _card_ to pay for things. I don't know, I'm looking into getting one but I have to meet with somebody in Gringotts to arrange a muggle account.'

'Gringotts do muggle accounts?'

'Yeah, though they have another name for the muggle side. So can I borrow your parents Internet and maybe telephone and card and all that?'

'Well… Most wizards aren't very good at using those things. Perhaps I should guide you through it a bit.'

* * *

><p>Lucius would die to see him dressed reasonably muggle, entering a muggle dwelling; the Granger's charming suburban home. The Mr Granger was out but Hermione's mother was there and it wasn't hard to make conversation though his mind was screaming <em>muggle!<em> like a siren. 'And this must be Seth,' she said, grinning down at him. Seth had developed to be quite clingy and shy and hid himself behind his older brother. 'What was it you called him Hermione?'

Hermione flushed. 'A squib mum.'

'Ah yes! He's kind of the opposite of our Hermione.'

'Exactly. Except it's rather more difficult this way. Muggles don't really have a system for integrating squibs,' Draco said. He had a mug of muggle coffee which, predictably, tasted like piss. 'Anyways we better get started, shouldn't we?' he said, looking to Hermione. She led him upstairs and into the boxroom where there was a little black machine with a screen.

'Is this your Internet?' he asked.

'Internet isn't really a physical thing Draco. This is a computer and there's Internet _on_ it.'

He had no clue what she was on about but he nodded, not wishing to reveal his ignorance. Then she fired up the computer and his gasp was so loud Seth put down his book and came to look. But it was like they were looking at two different things because then Seth went back to his book and Draco could not draw his eyes away from the machine.

They wasted a lot of time on stupid things but it was all so flashy and colourful it was like nothing Draco had experienced. Hermione was very amused. The actual thing they needed to do, re–ordering the birth cert, was easy enough. Hermione then began to show him the websites of various schools. 'This is much quicker than sending out for prospectus. Do you know any of these?'

'I've heard of the big ones – Marlborough, Harrow, Rugby, Eton, Repton… But I don't know which one is the best. They're all very snooty and expensive though.'

'Sounds good to me. Ooh, this one has a decent uniform at least. Now why don't all muggles dress like this?'

'Because it's horribly old–fashioned?'

'Now, now, there's nothing wrong with appreciating a good hat. Yes, look at these rooms Seth, can you imagine living here?'

Seth shrugged.

'Wait does that say they take boys from thirteen up?'

'Yes.'

'Doesn't schools start when you're eleven?'

'In state schools, but not with these. You'd have to start him at prep school at eight.'

'Prep school? Ugh well that's just gravy, another thing to organise. Let's a look at some of them so.'

And so another hour or so passed and Seth was beginning to complain and they were just walking down the stairs, still laughing, and talking jovially, when the front door opened. It was Ron Weasley, looking almost human in a suit and robes. 'Malfoy,' he said, and narrowed his eyes.

'Just leaving,' Draco said. It would be thoroughly embarrassing if Ron started something now in front of Hermione and Seth. He took the last few steps, prodding Seth in front of him.

'Is this the spawn?' Ron asked.

'I'm his brother,' Seth said loudly. Draco felt a swell of pride at hearing that clear, confident voice. 'No need to tell me who you are. You must be a Weasley.'

Ron and Hermione were flabbergasted. Draco choked back a chuckle. 'That's not very nice Setheus,' he said, but he squeezed Seth's shoulder anyways. 'Come on, I think I know when it's time we leave. See you tomorrow Hermione.'

* * *

><p>The following Monday, the first day of June, found Draco strolling the grounds of that rather nice property in Cotswold. 'I inherited the house,' the current owner was telling him. 'My wife is a muggle and we'd really prefer to live amongst muggles.'<p>

'Hm.' He was loathe to admit it but he was rather enchanted by the place. It was an old hunting lodge, plenty of bedrooms, big stone fireplace, rolling lawns and a long drive. An idea was forming in his mind.

'I tried living here for a while but it's very isolated when you can't Apparate and it's a magical dwelling so it's not on the muggle grid,' the owner said. 'I got a generator after a while though.'

'Does that mean you could have all that, eh, computers and telephones here?'

'Yes.' He said it as though it were a bad thing but it decided Draco's mind. He was going to buy this place and instead of selling it on in a year for profit he would do it up and bring Seth here and teach him about all this muggle stuff. And maybe he could get Hermione to show him how to use the computer. He would have dogs and buy a house-elf and it would be a thousand times lovelier than the Manor. He had a sudden urge to show the place to Hermione, to see what she thought, as if that mattered.

'I'll take it, this evening if I can.'

It was almost one o' clock and time to get back to the flat anyways. He was a bit late because the wards allowed no Apparition on the property and he had to go all the way down that long drive again before he could magick himself to his own familiar lobby. The doorman nodded at him and he took the stairs two at a time.

Hermione didn't seem at all annoyed he was late. In fact she had begun serving lunch. It was sent over from the Manor every day. Before Seth had moved in the kitchen had been barely touched – Draco skipped breakfast and ate both his lunch and tea out. He still didn't tackle proper meals, but he'd become quite good at some simple things - porridge, toast, ham sandwiches, kippers, eggs and rice pudding.

'You can stay if you'd like,' he offered. The house–elves always brought over quite a lot and today the Yorkshire pudding looked fantastic. Only an elf could make it so deliciously fluffy.

'I don't like eating food made by house–elves,' she said but at the same time she made no move to leave. 'But I've fought with Ron and I don't want to go home.'

'I could make you some toast, if that would keep you here.'

'Oh no it's alright I suppose it wouldn't hurt this once.'

'Tilly would be offended if you didn't.'

'You do seem to treat her better than Dobby.'

'Dobby?' he said, seating himself beside Seth. 'Oh he was a right nutter. Always punishing himself.'

'Oh but he was lovely!'

And they began a very lively argument. He no longer found her arguing irritating but had come to look forward to the times when she got really riled up about things. It was just her way; she seemed to feel so passionately about things on behalf of other people and couldn't control herself from bursting out. It was captivating. She was at her best when she fumed and her cheeks turned pink and her eyes shined, imploring you to believe.

'Oh how can I resist you when you're like this?' Draco said. 'You'll never change what you think, will you?'

'Never.'

'But could you imagine a world where elves had their own little elf houses and worked as healers and curse–breakers or whatever?'

'Well surely they're not so different from goblins.'

'Goblins can do things we can't. All that stuff with bending metal and sensing the rocks.'

'Elves can do powerful magic.'

'Yeah and they're perfectly happy using it to polish the brass if I give them food and a place to sleep.'

'But they're so mistreated!'

'And how many have you met?'

And so they went on, bouncing off one another. She was so quick to respond, he'd never met anybody who challenged him so endlessly. He had a sudden feeling that he didn't want her to leave because she'd go away and keep thinking all these interesting things and he wouldn't find out. He convinced her to come and see the house with him and Seth. To bring her along as he Apparated he had to curl his arm around her and the touch of her gave him the oddest sensation.

He envied her, to be able to wear short sleeves. She had nothing to hide. All summer he would have to wear complicated, itchy glamours, lest he remind anybody that they were dealing with a former Death Eater.

Oh she loved the house, as did Seth. The owner smiled fondly as Seth ran up and down the stairs dragging his hand along the banister, examining the portraits, peering into each room. 'Is this your family?' he said.

'Yeah.'

'What?' Hermione said.

'I mean no,' he said hurriedly. 'I mean _he's_ my family, he's my brother. Hermione is my ah, friend.' Oh lord he _never_ got flustered, what had happened? The owner smirked.

'Will you get the legal stuff so I can get my solicitor to look over it?' Draco said. 'And I can show Seth around the garden.' And of course, Hermione.

It was such a beautiful day. His heart sang, his skin seemed to suck up that lovely dry heat. And he wanted to kiss Hermione. It was there on the peripheral of his mind all the time, as they talked and laughed, that her lips looked so entrancing and the longer he stared at them the more he felt like how could he do anything _but_ kiss her? And with only some awkwardness, he did. He stopped, to show her a wand tree full of bowtruckles, and Seth ran on ahead trying to catch a butterfly and he just did it. It was brief and dry and sweet, just her lips pressed to his and his stomach trying to blast off through his chest and then he stood back. She looked at him. He looked back. 'I don't know why I did that.' She kept staring. 'Sorry.' Her eyes were brown. Such an under–rated colour. 'You just, um, looked nice.' Why was he still speaking?

'I feel as though I should slap you.'

'Is that your... usual reaction?'

'I… I don't know.'

'I won't do it again. Unless, well, do you want me to?' there was something sparking inside him as they began to walk again. What was this? All his horrible feelings that told him this was the worst idea he'd ever had, he pushed aside. He suffocated them under all the lovely thoughts swimming to the surface.

'Well… Oh God, you're _Draco_,' she said. 'And I'm with Ron.'

'That sounds very feeble.' He stopped.

She swallowed. 'I'm sure he likes me too.'

'He can keep liking you after you've broken up with him.'

'I'm not breaking up with him!'

He was only realising it himself now but it was all so true and so right. 'What do you even see in him? Surely, if you really thought about it-'

'He's nice! He's _Ron_.'

'Hermione you and I both know that's beyond pathetic. You're here with me today when you could be at home and-'

'I thought we were friends is all… oh God Draco you are _too _confusing.'

How had this come along so suddenly? That odd _flipping _he felt when she spoke. It was too much. It was only later, when he put Seth to bed and he was alone and rational, that he began to question. Him and Hermione Granger. It surely could never happen. He'd be embarrassed to be seen near her and his parents would disown him and all of her friends hated him. And yet… Though he couldn't envisage it, he couldn't see it not happening. That didn't make sense but he felt if he sat down and closed his eyes hard in the living room for an hour sheer force of will would make it work, sheer force of will would blast through all those chirping voices that looked down on him and said things like _what about your family? _and _muggleborn_ and _blood traitor!_ and a hundred dozen _perfectly valid _other things.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

He was very busy the next day and left as soon as she arrived, but he had enough time to see her turn pink before he rushed off. He had plenty to do between the muggle bank account and the house in Cotswold and getting Seth's name down for two schools. Meetings with muggles made him feel nauseous. And yet they were easier to stomach than Hermione because though he desperately wanted to talk to her and kiss her again, he was suddenly afraid to find out the Weasel–hump had proposed and she wanted to make lots of spotty babies with him.

He rather avoided her on Tuesday and Wednesday and then on Thursday he came back in the middle of lessons to tell Seth where he would be starting school in two Septembers. 'It's called Lamb House Prepatory, it's this ancient massive building and you'll be home every weekend,' Draco said, spreading out the brochure for Seth to see. 'I had to confund the headmaster and his secretary to get you go in and it costs about a million pounds but I think you'll like it.'

'It's like Hogwarts?' Seth asked.

'Yup, except you can go when you're eight.'

'Oh wow! Let's hang this up in my room.'

He ran off to find sticky tape for the glossy full–colour brochure with pictures of chirpy boys in choir robes and playing sports and standing in line at a cafeteria. Draco leaned on the table oh–so–casual and Hermione was fuming. 'Thank you for interrupting my lesson,' she said, folding her arms.

'I didn't want to make you mad, I just... Well I was wondering are you and Weasley still together?'

'Yes.' Ah, but he could see the torment in her soul.

'Break up with him. And then fall in love with me.'

'Oh come on, be reasonable Draco, I mean–'

He didn't want to hear anything about being reasonable so he kissed her again and it was bloody brilliant and he felt so good he decided he couldn't possibly _not _end up with her. It was basically torture to pull himself away when he heard the pitter patter of Seth approaching. 'I think we should do that again,' he said. 'On a regular basis.' She looked very much like she did too, only she had to go back to spellings with a six–year–old. And Draco had so much bloody work to do. So he told her that he'd take her to dinner and send Seth to the Manor. 'Draco, I'm with Ron,' she said.

'You keep saying that like it means something,' he said. 'I know it's nasty but surely you can break it off with him? Surely?'

'Draco it's not that easy–'

'Yes it is! Look it's my birthday tomorrow so you know, this can be my present.'

'Draco–'

'Just think about it. Think about how nice it would be to see me all the time and have me bring you out to dinner and talk about really intellectual things.'

'But–'

'Shush shush shush you have Seth to teach.' And he stepped in to the Floo and was off, back to meetings and work.

* * *

><p><strong>June 5<strong>**th**** 2005**

His mother was throwing his birthday party, the one with a hundred guests in frock coats and meringue dresses and simpering, fake smiles. She may have been a rather pathetic excuse for a mother but Narcissa had been bred to throw parties. He spent most of the morning with her, she needed his opinion on everything from guest list to doily arrangements. All the while he was rather distracted thinking about Hermione. He bid his time until Narcissa was suitably distracted and then snuck over to the Floo and went home. It was almost one and he didn't want to miss Hermione.

She was there when he got back and he convinced her to eat with him. Seth was in his own world, he had some kind of little muggle toy and he dunked it into his soup and played at drowning it which left Draco and Hermione to their own conversation. 'You can't possibly want to stay with Ron,' he said.

She shrugged. 'I don't know what I want.'

'Be honest! He's got nothing between his ears.'

'You don't know him like I do.'

'The main reason you're with him is because he was the one to notice you in school. It's only a habit now instead of a relationship.'

Oof, had he gone too far? Had he insulted her? He half expected her to flounce up from the table and leave. Instead she only flushed and said, '_Don't tell me what I think_,' in a dangerous voice.

'Sorry.' Always better to just apologize. 'I just… I know it's ridiculous, I just really realised I was stupid about you before. I always thought you two paired off well together and now it just seems like...I mean, it's _Ron Weasley_, surely you deserve someone more worthwhile?'

'You mean like you I suppose?' she said and then didn't give him a chance to answer, continuing on, 'I think I'm not being fair to him and I can't possibly keep lying to him and pretending we're alright.'

There was something singing in Draco's heart. He kissed her again even though Seth was right there and he heard the gasp but he kept on. Kissing, he'd realised, was wholly under–rated. 'Draco!' Seth said in his little shocked voice, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, little muggle toy still gripped in one hand. 'Is Hermione your _girlfriend_?'

Draco shrugged and she stammered and Seth only nodded sagely ad frowned down at his soup, trying to make sense of this turn of events.

'I really won't rest until you've broken up with Weasley.'

He could see her mind working. She was hesitating, nervous to cut ties and make a leap, but he was certainly having some effect on her. He kissed her again, before she left, and though he knew she was only leaving to split up with Ron, he still felt a pang to watch her go. Still, she seemed equally reluctant to leave. 'I'll see you tomorrow and you'll have good news,' he said. 'And maybe, I don't know, we could keep seeing each other.' Another kiss, to keep him going. He still had that long tedious party ahead of him.

First order was bringing Seth to the manor for a piano lesson. The place was topsy turvy with elves and hired servants tripping over each other in their efforts to please Narcissa, the taskmaster of the hour. Draco, after walking Seth to the music room, found his father taking refuge in his study. 'It's best to stay out of her way,' Lucius said, folding his newspaper as Draco sat down. 'She tried to get me polishing the brass and I put my foot down and she damn near asked for a divorce.' Draco let out a laugh. 'Are you looking forward to it?' Lucius asked.

Draco shrugged. 'I don't even know who's going.'

'Everybody, or so it seems. There's the minister and half the cabinet, some media people, McGonagall and Slughorn from Hogwarts. We've even got the muggle prime–minister.'

'A muggle?'

'Yes I wasn't in favour of it myself but Shacklebolt asked it specially, they're trying to maintain better relations with him. Of course it meant we also had to invite Head of Muggle Relations.'

'Who's that?'

'Arthur Weasley.' Both men exchanged a grimace.

'So we've got a Weasley and a muggle. I don't suppose you've invited any of my actual friends.'

'As a matter of fact we've got two Weasleys because Potter is bringing his.'

Draco honestly thought he was hearing things. Harry Potter was coming to his _home_ and bringing Ginny, a girl his father had once given a Horcrux to? Lucius had basically ruined a year of her life and endangered everybody at Hogwarts by letting a bloody basilisk loose and had never been punished. And now she was attending Draco's birthday party.

Lucius, on seeing Draco's expression, only shrugged. 'We're supposed to be the re–branded Malfoys and pretend it's all in the past,' he said. 'Besides it's not all bad. We'll have the regular crowd – Zabini and his mother, not to mention Parkinson, Flint, Nott, Gamp, Higgs, Derrick, Goyle.'

Draco winced. He hadn't spoken to Goyle since being punched outside Maureen Lowell's nightclub. From what he'd gathered from Pansy, Gregory still nursed a bitter hatred for Draco from Crabbe's death and years of being treated like a dunderhead. He rather blamed Draco for three years in Azkaban as well. With any luck only the parents would show up. And maybe, if he could be so lucky, after he'd spent an hour shaking hands and smiling he could get his friends and go upstairs and get hammered. Or there was always the next night.

* * *

><p>The party went smoothly, the band played well and everybody was in good humour. Draco stood with his father, hob–nobbing with the best. It took him a while to realise the man he was talking to was a muggle but then he supposed if there <em>was <em>a smart muggle they were bound to become prime–minister. It was actually quite a happy thing that they began talking, because the man had gone to Westminster, one of the schools Draco had heard about for Seth, and could answer all sorts of questions about muggle education. Their conversation was probably the best of the night so far. Draco, perhaps because of the champagne glass in his hand, began sharing quite a lot with the man. Anthony was his name. 'You see it's rather a sensitive subject but my brother was actually born without magic,' he said.

'Really? I didn't know that could happen.'

'It's rare but it does and you mustn't say it to _anybody_,' Draco told him. 'My parents aren't dealing with it very well and it's left to me to carve out some sort of life for the kid. He's only six see.'

'Poor little fellow.'

'Quite because you see he'll have to go to school but he doesn't know anything about televisions or Internets or anything.'

'I see your problem,' the prime–minister nodded sympathetically. 'You know we really ought to organise something because my little chappie is five and you know, children really do learn best from one another and–'

'And would a muggle child _know_ how to work all those kinds of things?'

'Oh yes! Why they're always looking at some kind of screen and the boy, Seth you said? We could bring about a bit, show him some of our history. My wife is always trooping the kids off to museums and all that.'

Why the evening was looking up after all! Seth would be so happy to hear it and for some reason whenever Seth was happy Draco felt similarly happy. He always felt so sorry for the little bugger because he couldn't have any wizard friends and didn't know any muggles. And now Draco had found him a friend who wouldn't care about magic! Perfect. Only here was Arthur Weasley on the horizon and Draco's mood was going sour.

'Ah! Prime minister!' he said. It was all Draco could do not to scowl. Weasley was wearing a distinctly shabby set of dress robes and there was soot still clinging to the hem. Didn't he have the good sense to scourgify himself after the Floo?

'Ah yes, um…' the muggle began, faltering. Draco took a wicked pleasure in the prime minister forgetting who Arthur was. He couldn't stay around to bask in the bumbling awkwardness of Arthur Weasley though because his father was talking to somebody more important and signalling him over. He made his excuses and left.

By half ten he had done his job circling the room and was finally getting a chance to relax. He was showing Blaise the remnants of his duelling burn, still impressively horrible looking, and cutting his first cigar of the night. They were in one of the parlours off the ballroom and it was a haze of smoke and seemed to have attracted all the younger generation which suited Draco just fine. Only of course that included Mr Harry Potter. Draco had seen him earlier with the red–headed girl, dancing, so why was he now alone, hands in pockets, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other? 'Harry Potter!' Blaise said loudly. He'd had more to drink than Draco. 'Who invited you?'

Draco, who had the urge to laugh, decided to be responsible and prevent Blaise from making a scene. 'My mother invited him,' he said. 'Enjoying yourself Potter?'

'Yeah. Nice house.'

Draco shrugged in a very half–hearted attempt at modesty. 'My cup overspilleth,' he said. 'Did you get a drink, yeah? There's house–elves going around with trays.'

'No it's fine. I don't drink.'

'What are you, pregnant?' Blaise said. Draco snickered but Harry just looked mildly confused.

Ginny appeared and said hello to Blaise and Draco, somewhat stiff but still civil. 'Draco why is your shirt unbuttoned?' she asked.

'Oh I was showing Blaise my burn,' he said. He ground his cigar into the ash tray and pulled his shirt and waistcoat back over his shoulder.

'I did it with an _exurere_ about a month ago and it's still there,' Blaise said.

'Hot night?' Ginny said.

'Oh ha ha we were duelling, Weasley,' Blaise said.

'Funny though, Granger said the exact same thing when she saw it,' Draco said, fixing his collar.

'Hermione?' Harry and Ginny said at once. Draco laughed at the horrified expressions on both their and Blaise's faces.

'Oh relax she tutors my younger brother,' he said. 'I thought she might help me heal it.'

'_You_?' Harry said. 'Is that why Ron got so angry with her?'

'She told us she was teaching a little pureblood but she didn't say–' Ginny said, fuming. How awkward it must be to have your face clash with your hair.

'She didn't say it was me?' Draco said. It gave him an odd sense of satisfaction to know he was important enough to be a secret.

'You let a mudblood near your brother?' Blaise said.

'Oh shut up, she's pretty alright.' He was really enjoying the looks all three were giving him, that wide–eyed, shocked, horrified face. He grinned. 'We even have lunch together sometimes.' He hadn't thought their mouths could open wider. 'If you excuse me I see an ex coming towards me and she looks very, very drunk.' And he ducked out of the room just in time to avoid Daphne Greengrass whose heart he'd apparently broken, even though as he recalled it she'd been the one to stop speaking to _him_. How quaint.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

><p>The next morning he woke up with a pounding headache and the fuzzy memories of a good birthday. The party had ended shortly after midnight but all his favourite people had stayed on until four or five am. He vaguely recalled boldly wagering that he could take both Blaise and Theo on, two–on–one, but they were all so drunk it was a poor excuse for a duel. Though he had won there was a nasty zig–zag cut, badly sewn up, running along his leg. Then later on… He seemed to remember having a heart to heart with Goyle and comparing Dark Marks. Had he cried? Goyle definitely had. Perhaps now they could be friends again. It had been a good night but the feeling in his head was absolutely unbearable and he couldn't lie in bed forever.<p>

Draco shuffled, squinting, into the kitchen. He saw it was 9.30. Half an hour until Hermione arrived. Ah, his heart swooned. She'd be telling him she was free from Ron and perhaps kisses would make his head feel better. He looked through the cupboard, searching for his tiny bottle of failsafe hangover cure. Two drops of the nasty yellow stuff on his tongue, about ten minutes over the toilet vomiting his ring up, and he was good as new.

'Are you alright?' Seth said. He'd slept at the manor but an elf or somebody had obviously brought him over because he was sitting at the dining table.

'Yeah. Just tired from last night.'

He put the kettle on for tea and dug out the milk. Seth nodded sagely.

'Was Hermione there?'

'No.'

'Isn't she your girlfriend?'

'Yes. But I don't think mum and dad would like her very much.'

'They don't like anybody who isn't perfect.'

Draco let out a hollow laugh. 'They have a weird idea of perfect. I think we both know they're pretty stupid.

Seth shrugged, unconvinced, and went back to his book. Hermione had given him about two boxes of her old muggle books, to familiarise himself with all sorts of things from the muggle culture, and he was working his way through them at a fantastic rate. 'Any good?' Draco asked, sitting down opposite with his tea and some bread.

'Yeah.' Draco saw the cover upside down. _The Faraway Tree_. 'It's a bit confusing because they've got fairies and pixies and all that, only they're not real ones at all,' Seth said.

'Ah, yeah. Muggles are always making things up but it's good to know what they think anyways. And Hermione did say some of them were quite old fashioned.'

'It's still good though.' He glanced at the cover which showed three children smiling at the base of a tree, rabbits and birds surrounding them. 'I wish I had a brother or sister my age.'

'Mmm. I know what you mean.' How often had Draco longed for even a cousin? Six was about the age he had been expected to begin socialising and Narcissa had always arranged hours of play-dates whereas Seth knew nobody. 'Though I do have something to tell you,' he said and went on about the prime–minister and the son who was Seth's age. Ah, how good it felt to see the little face light up and then, just when the little arms had wrapped around him, Hermione was there. 'The door was open,' she said. Draco grinned and kissed the top of Seth's head, breathing in that lovely shampoo smell and then let him go.

'S'fine,' he said, standing up.

'Hi Hermione,' Seth said chirpily, taking his place at the table where he already had his books and pens laid out.

'You're a bit early,' Draco said.

'I know, I wanted to talk to you.'

'Alright. Here, Seth, run along.' He grinned and didn't really know why.

Seth gave a very good Malfoy glare and then left with his book.

'Have you, um, broken up with Weasley?' he dared not hope too much but when she nodded he let out a funny noise and crossed the space between them to kiss her. He kept it longer this time, she felt so wonderfully natural in his arms.

'He didn't take it very well.'

'I can imagine.'

'He left for his parent's house and I… I felt like calling him back but then I thought of you.'

He kissed her again. How could he not when she had just said something like that? 'I do really, really like this,' he said. He hadn't let go of her still and she overpowered him, his knees felt like they were rapidly dissolving. 'I have to get ready for class,' she said, but she made no move.

'After, will you go on a date with me? It's a really nice day, we can go on a walk somewhere.' Why was he pleading when she was looking like she just wanted him to keep talking? Oh lord he still had no illusions about her face, which was plain enough, but when she smiled at him like that her features were most attractive and oh lord he just wanted to snog her senseless.

* * *

><p>He was looking forward to the sex, which would come in it's own time, because he already knew with no doubt it would be mind-blowingly brilliant but no matter how much he wanted it, it would wait while they enjoyed that lovely sunshine–and–roses, aqua blue, phase of the relationship.<p>

She wanted it a secret, or in her words 'didn't want to advertise things', to save Ron's feelings, which suited Draco just fine because he hadn't the foggiest on how to tell his parents. Of course, this ruled out going to restaurants or shows or shops or clubs. They spent a lot of time walking in the countryside and doing crosswords and playing cards and finding muggle places to go with Seth. She had no interest in tennis or Quidditch, which was somewhat disappointing, but other than that he had never felt better in his life.

Everybody commented on it. His eyes were bright, his hair was healthy and he smelt like a God. It was all going swimmingly. He seemed to have a golden touch in business, his muggle investments rocketed, renovations on the house in Cotswold carried along, Seth grew an inch and raved about his new muggle friends.

June, which had given all the signs of a typical English summer, gave way to a searing hot July. The air hung hot and heavy, closing in on him and it smelt sickly sweet, like all the flowers of the world blooming at once. It was too hot to move and Draco and Hermione simply lay in the grass, half in the shade, both feeling red and lazy. The morning had been spent setting out the furniture in the new house, Seth was at the manor with lessons on hold for the day. By the afternoon they'd given in to the inevitable and gone outside to lie down. It was so still, so quiet, so beautiful. They talked about this and that and Hermione fell asleep for a bit and Draco looked at the clouds.

Even when it got dark the heat didn't go away and they only went inside because the insects had come out and it began to rain. Within moments they were drenched and Hermione squealed and grabbed his hand when the thunder sounded. And inside, with her hair in strings and her clothes plastered to her body, she looked so perfect he kissed her, up the against the counter and it was so intense he had to pull back only he couldn't bare to be more than a fraction of an inch away from her. They were still pressed up against each other, nose to nose, he could feel rather than hear each word she spoke. 'I couldn't possibly Apparate in this weather,' she said.

'Out of the question,' he said and pressed back in and there was a new urgency there, something fighting for release, and had he really ever felt anything before this? Every memory he'd ever had seemed to pale in comparison to this… experience. It was like… the world was whole, he understood everything, he felt _good_. And the sex… he had obviously been doing it wrong because it had never felt like _this_ before.


	14. Chapter 13

**28/12/2013 AN: finally, finally I get around to finishing this stupid bloody fic! I got to some bits and they were just so unbearably cringe I had to edit them...and now I know all that's waiting for me in Hell is more manuscripts from when I was fifteen. Anyways, I assume the only people who will read this are those who subscribed ages ago but I have to get it out for my own peace of mind (and so I can start with some other fic in my archives). Enjoy! (or don't, more likely!)**

Chapter Thirteen

**July 2005**

Life took on a rhythm, as it is wont to do. He felt happy. On a Sunday he and Seth were over at the Manor for lunch and when Tilly appeared to announce they were ready to serve, there was literally a skip in his step. Hermione wasn't with him but he knew she was somewhere, thinking all her delicious thoughts and half of them about him. Lucius and Seth were walking slightly ahead, Seth had asked some trivial question, and Narcissa, smiling, asked, 'Is there a girl?'

'A girl?' His heart tightened.

'There's surely some reason for your mood.'

He flushed. 'It's too soon yet.'

'Oh a mother knows when it's serious.'

There was some part of him that longed to yell this from the battlements to the dungeons, to introduce the people he loved to one another and show them off. His mother could be funny, his father could be clever, they could act like people to be proud of.

And at the same time he was only too painfully aware that Hermione was too far below his blood status to ever be acceptable. His parents could never be at their best around her. His mother would never look at him with that love if she knew about Hermione. So he stayed quiet all through dinner about how he'd been spending his time as of late and instead joined the discussion on the weather and society occasions. He'd been quite out of the loop as of late, because of Hermione, and all his invitation cards stood propped up gathering dust on the mantelpiece. His mother was reprimanding him lightly for not going out more, everybody at the last garden party was saying they'd missed him, and she told him he'd have to go to the Atkins because they were going to have an ice sculpture brought in from Russia. Though he was loathe to admit he rather did want to go. He was very keen to learn from his mother who had fallen out with whom and who was engaged and who had caused a scandal for being caught with the help. His parents were actually capable of being very good company when they felt like it and they could act almost normal around Seth now. They were even mildly impressed to learn he was socialising with the son of the prime–minister. Sometimes, Draco felt there was hope for his family after all.

He had been planning to go back to the flat directly after they were finished eating but when everything was going so swimmingly he decided to take up the invitation of playing boules on the back lawn. And then his mother promised treacle so he stayed on for tea and then, when they were all playing rummy in the parlour, Seth fell asleep. 'I suppose I should take him home,' Draco said. Even knowing Hermione awaited him he was unwilling to leave because who knew when everybody would be getting along so happily again?

'Oh just leave him here,' Lucius said.

'Yes, you know you've been awfully good but perhaps it's time Seth came home,' Narcissa said hesitantly. 'Your father and I have been talking about it and really London is no place for a child. It won't be long until he's off to school and we ought to spend time with him while we can.'

'And he's never going to get magic so we may as well get on with it,' Lucius added. Draco couldn't find his words. Wonderful, beautiful parents! How proud of them he felt, he wanted to shake their hands and kiss their foreheads and tell them he loved them. But he couldn't. So all he did was nod as heartily as he could and say, 'Yes, yes you're right.'

'So we'll send for his things in the morning?'

'Yes, of course.'

'And you'll tell the muggle woman to come here for his lessons?'

'Yes, first thing.'

And he wondered if they understood everything he was trying to say with his nods.

* * *

><p>With Seth out of the way there was more Hermione time and she was at the flat almost always except when she was teaching. He got an offer on the house in Cotswold and decided he may as well just sell it because he was really too busy to keep supervising the renovations and anyways the flat was all he needed when it was just him.<p>

He felt life was very sweet, waking up around nine with Hermione, looking through the papers while she was with Seth, reading letters and all that. In the afternoons he had meetings and then the evenings were either Hermione or sometimes a game of tennis or out to a club with the old Slytherin gang. He got into no duels and didn't lose too much money in backgammon. And the nights… oh they were always Hermione. She was still half–living at home and her parents had gotten used to her coming in at 3am or not at all. Only now, they wanted to meet him.

'I spend all my time with you. They're just _curious_,' she said. They were going over for dinner. 'And I told you it's going to be casual.'

'You mean… I shouldn't change?' He glanced at the suit laid out on the bed with a pang. It was his favourite.

'Yes.'

'What will I wear?'

'What you have on is fine.'

'These? _Tennis clothes to dinner_?'

'Draco I told you, it's only going to be spaghetti Bolognese and Trivial Pursuit, you needn't to dress up.'

He resisted telling her that not wearing robes was akin to going naked anyways and he hadn't even gone for a morning suit or frock coat so really he had made enough compromises already. Instead he raised his left forearm and said, 'I can't wear short sleeves all evening.'

Hermione looked blank. 'What?' she said.

He waved his wand over his arm and revealed the Dark Mark. Still ominously red raw and unfaded. 'I mean, I wear glamours when I need to but it really starts to hurt after a while,' he said. Hermione only looked at him, eyes fixed to his arm. He hated that look on her face, she was holding her breath and there was almost a fear in her eyes. He didn't want to frighten her but he had known for some time they couldn't skirt around the topic forever.

'I know it's ugly,' he said, turning his arm inward so she couldn't see it, thrusting it into his pocket. 'If I bandage it will you tell them a dog bit me or something?'

'Oh you don't need to hide it. They'll just think it's a tattoo or something.'

'I'd rather they thought I was once in the service of a homicidal maniac than that I have a _tattoo_.' He said the word as if it was a venereal disease.

'Draco they won't know what it is.'

'Well _you_ know.' Ah, here it was, her eyes filling up with tears as he took his roll of bandages out of the drawer at his bedside and began rolling them around his arm. He was quite rough and it was so sore but he kept on.

'I knew you had it when we started seeing each other.'

It stung him, that she acted as if she'd methodically weighed up the pros and cons of Draco Malfoy. Had he passed her test and she was now having doubts? Only, she looked at him so beautifully he couldn't feel angry. 'Don't cry,' he said and once he had tied the bandage he crossed the room and put his arm around her and kissed her temple and then down her ear, along her jaw. 'Come on, I'll wear my whites and be happy and go to your parent's house,' he said. 'We'll have a great time.'

She was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, and then, 'I'm afraid there's something I didn't tell you.'

'What?' He felt himself tense around her.

'I told Harry I'd babysit for him tonight.'

Annoying. Quite the last thing he wanted to do, but how could he muster any anger up when her hair was so soft in his hands? He kissed her hairline. 'I'll survive,' he said.

And he did. Mr and Mrs Granger were every bit as sharp and quick as Hermione which only made sense of course. Conversation flowed smooth and natural and Potter's son, James, was an easy child. He'd taken a great liking to Draco. 'Birdie!' he said when Draco entered the room. Harry and Ginny had dropped him over around six and Hermione's parents had minded him.

'Hello to you too,' Draco said.

'Birdie! Birdie!' came the incessant whine. He was struggling from Mrs Granger's lap. 'Birdie! Up!'

'What does he mean?' Hermione asked, coming into the room.

'I have no idea– oh.'

'What? What is it?'

Draco found himself blushing. 'I may have once cast my patronus in front of him. I'm surprised he remembers it.'

'Birdie!'

Hermione didn't comment on the patronus thing but he could see she was thinking about it as he shook hands with her father and complimented her mother. He had never had a girlfriend whose parents he met formally like this but he had the good sense to know what to do - laugh at her father's jokes and pet-names, offer to help with kitchen things he knew nothing about and be nice to the baby at all costs. After dinner it started to fuss sitting on Draco's knee and as much as he felt like giving it a good shake all he did was make faces to amuse it, to no avail.

'He's not hungry and he's clean,' Hermione said.

'He's probably just tired,' said Mr Granger.

'Perhaps if you try that bird thing Draco,' Mrs Granger suggested. Draco drew out his wand and hesitated. Why was it so embarrassing to have a patronus? He felt deeply ashamed thinking that Harry and Ginny had seen it and probably discussed it when he had left that day.

After all, he had made no apologies for being a Death Eater but a patronus was a kind of signal that he was good at heart, a victim of circumstance, an unfortunate result of the war. He didn't want pity. He didn't pretend to be a good person, had no desire to make people like him when they'd already decided he was evil in their heads. And yet, for Hermione he'd have to swallow it. '_Expecto patronum_,' he said, concentrating on that distinct feeling of elation, and there grew from the tip of his wand an eagle. It wasn't a particularly good one because he didn't feel very happy but Mr and Mrs Granger sat up appreciatively and said, 'Very nice Draco.'

James squealed and grabbed at it. 'Birdie!' he said, tears still streaked on his face. When it disappeared he appeared to be considering another bout of tears but Draco entertained him making sparks with his wand. James clapped and squealed again. Then he relaxed into Draco's arms, lazily pulling at the bandage on Draco's arm and then slowly sighing off to sleep. Draco sat there unwilling to move in case he woke the baby, when Hermione and her mother went in to the kitchen to get the cheeseboard and some grapes.

'So what do you do Draco?' Mr Granger said.

'This and that,' he said. 'I manage the family money, meet with the stewards, watch the stock market. I've got some charity stuff and investments in start–ups too.'

Mr Granger nodded, eyebrows raised. 'Sounds impressive.'

'It's not really, it's just a load of jargon and shaking hands a lot of the time,' he said. 'There's a lot of luck.'

'I have to say, Hermione is certainly very taken with you.'

'I like her a lot,' he said.

'The Weasley boy, he was nice but I don't think he was really right for our Hermione.' Draco, not trusting himself to say anything, remained silent and Mr Granger went on, 'You knew him I suppose?'

'Yeah, we were at school together.'

'Were you in his house? I understand houses matter a lot in Hogwarts.' Well that was an understatement.

'No. We didn't really get along.'

'Ah yes Hermione mentioned you'd need to leave before Harry and Ginny came to pick up James to avoid an argument.'

Draco laughed. Typical Hermione, thinking of everything. He glanced at the clock.

'Relax, they're not due until midnight,' Mr Granger said. 'They're at something for Quidditch, you know Ginny plays?'

'Yes. Holyhead Harpies, though I think she took leave indefinitely after this one,' Draco said, nodding at James, now sleeping on the couch beside him.

'I can't remember the names, though Ron used to go on about one…'

'I'm not much of a Quidditch man myself, though–'

And he was cut off by the doorbell. His heart seemed to slow down as he heard Hermione approach the door. 'Oh, Harry!' she said. 'You're early.' Her voice carried with painful clarity.

'Yeah, sorry. Gin wasn't feeling well so we left and I figured I'd relieve you early.' He could perfectly imagine the foolish grin Harry always wore. 'So where is he?'

'Just in the sitting room but–'

But nothing because Harry had already opened the door and his eyes met with Draco's. 'Malfoy?' he said, utterly dumbfounded. He swallowed loudly. 'Hello Mr Granger.'

'Hello Harry.' Mr Granger seemed thoroughly amused.

'What're you, ah, doing here?'

Draco exchanged a glance with Hermione and Harry followed his gaze. 'You two are… friendly?'

'A bit more than that Harry,' Mr Granger said gently.

Draco honestly thought Harry might faint. The situation seemed to have driven him to the point of incoherency. 'But you – what? He – I – it's Malfoy!' he said.

'I'm quite aware of that Harry,' Hermione said coolly.

'Perhaps I should go,' Draco said. As carefully as he could he stood without disturbing the baby.

'No you really don't have to,' Hermione said.

'No, it's fine, I have stuff in the morning anyways,' he said. 'Tell your mother I said thanks for dinner and nice meeting you Mr Granger.' He got his jacket from where it hung over the back of the sofa and kissed Hermione on the cheek. 'See you tomorrow,' he said to her and couldn't resist a wink, just to enjoy that last image of Harry, mouth agape, physically recoiling (had he ever experienced a thought that _wasn't _immediately written on his face?)


	15. Chapter 14

**Actually some parts of this are better than I remember.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

The next morning he had an American on a long distance Floo call when he heard somebody at the door. With an apology to the businessman he summoned a house-elf from the manor.

'Turn away whoever's at the door, tell them I'm busy,' he said, then turned back to the fire. It was the time for half–yearly profits and he was discussing dividends with the founder of an important manufacturer whose company he owned a rather large share of. Floo calls from abroad were tricky to arrange and very expensive but here was the house-elf again, interrupting. 'He is not wanting to go away master,' it said. 'It is Mr Harry Potter sir!'

Sigh. 'Tell him to wait if he wants to see me badly,' he said. This wasn't entirely unexpected but he had more important things to do. He spent another half an hour with the American and was quite surprised when he emerged from his study to find Harry sitting there. He would've thought the much in–demand Boy–Who–Lived would have gotten bored waiting. 'Sorry for the delay, I was on the Floo,' Draco said, not feeling sorry in the least.

'I know what you're up to Malfoy, and you can't avoid me,' Harry said, standing up. He looked ready for a fight.

'Tell me then Potter, what am I up to?'

'You and Hermione, she said it's been going on for a while and I don't know what you've said to her but you've got to stop screwing with her! She's my best friend and I don't want to see her getting hurt.'

It was funny but sometimes when other people got so passionate Draco only felt a curious deadness inside, no desire to retort angrily or get the last word. Still, he couldn't ignore Harry altogether, not when he'd been presented with such a perfect opportunity to take him down a peg.

'Are you saying that I've been misleading her somehow?' he said. He leaned casually against the wall.

'All I know is that her and Ron were perfectly happy until she started working for you. She never _lied_ to us before you came along.'

'I suppose she thought you might jump to conclusions.'

'Don't turn this on me Malfoy! You are sick, you broke up two people who were meant to be together. Ron and Hermione were _fate_.'

'Potter you're not making any sense,' Draco said. His patience was wearing thin. 'If it was predestined then surely little old me couldn't have gotten in the way? I didn't set out to trap her.'

'So how come you're at her parents house acting all chummy?'

'I don't know Potter is it so hard to believe she just _likes_ me and we might actually be attracted to each other?' against his better judgement, Draco was getting properly riled. 'You seem to forget she's not bloody eight years old and she doesn't need you to interpret her feelings!'

He seemed to have conveyed his message properly because Harry looked shell-shocked. 'You really like her then?'

'I really don't think that's any of your business and I'm going to have to ask you to leave now,' Draco said. He summoned a house-elf to show Harry out, then slammed the door into his study. He paced like a caged animal. The gall of Harry to come into his flat questioning his own private matters! If he was good enough for Hermione surely that should be enough? Why did he have to prove to Harry he was suitable? It wasn't his fault she had chosen him over that Weasley git, was it? It didn't mean Harry had any right to come over, interfering. His blood was boiling. And there was not a single person he could vent to about it, not a single person he knew who had ever felt the same way, been caught in the same situation. He took a vase and threw it as hard as he could against the wall, which did absolutely nothing to make him feel better. '_Fuck_!' he yelled as tiny shards of glass lodged themselves in his hand. Little rivulets of blood ran around his fist and got onto his shirt.

His wand was in the kitchen and he stalked out of the study only to see Harry still there with the house-elf trying to move him. How had he not left yet? 'Blimey are you okay?' Harry said, eyes locked to the blood on Draco's hand.

'WOULD YOU EVER JUST GO HOME?' Draco said, pointing to the door with his injured hand, spraying flecks of blood everywhere.

'I wanted to stay, to say sorry I might have–'

'I. Do. Not. Care. I don't care if you don't like me and I don't care if you want to apologise to make yourself feel better. You and I will _never_ be friends Potter so just stop trying, and get out.'

He couldn't even look at him anymore, he turned and stuck his hand under the tap. The water made him feel slightly better but he needed his wand to get all the glass out. He picked it up from the counter with his left hand and tried a number of spells but he was shaking too much to do any good and he was useless with his left hand. He'd have to get help. But from who?

Harry had, thank God, left. Hermione was teaching and anyways he didn't particularly want to relay recent events to her. Blaise and any of his other friends would be working. His mother would fuss and hated blood. His father wouldn't be fobbed off with a half-truth. Who else was there? Of course. His oldest friend – Pansy Flint née Parkinson.

He found her in her drawing room with a visitor once he'd calmed himself enough to use the Floo. She was understandably shocked to have her morning tea interrupted by a blood-soaked Malfoy but she was a strong woman and within ten minutes the glass was in a neat little pile and she was tending to the dozens of tiny cuts all along his hand. It was then he paid attention to his guest.

'Astoria Greengrass,' he said.

'Draco Malfoy,' she said.

Pansy rolled her eyes, still dabbing with Murtlap Essence. 'I don't suppose you'll tell us what happened,' she said.

'I may have thrown a vase.' The two women looked at him, unimpressed. 'I didn't throw it _at_ anyone,' he said. 'Though I wanted to. I had a run in with Harry Potter.'

'I thought you two had made friends, I saw you speaking with him at your party,' Pansy said.

'Well I was drunk then.'

'Boys are so immature. I swear, Marcus sometimes acts like a sixteen-year-old.'

Draco huffed. Sometimes he felt so sick of people, always giving their opinions on everything he did. It was suffocating. 'Thanks for your help Pansy but I think I'll go home now,' he said coldly.

'Draco don't be a baby I was only teasing,' she said. She put a hand on his arm when he stood up. 'You seem quite shaken, you should stay here a while.'

So though he hadn't planned on it, he did. Astoria left shortly, she said she had to pack for something but he guessed the real reason was she didn't like him very much. He stayed for lunch. In the afternoon he borrowed a racquet and had a house-elf fetch some clothes and they went down to the club to see if there was a court free. It felt very good to do something that didn't matter at all, even if Pansy won. He went home feeling much better and you could hardly see the cuts on his hand anymore.

Hermione was waiting for him. 'Oh Draco,' she said, throwing her arms around him. 'I didn't know where you were! I came here and there was blood on the counter and glass all over the study and I didn't know _what_ happened and then Harry turned up and he said–'

'Potter came here _again_?'

'Yes. He had to leave but he said… "I acted like a prat and I'm sorry",' Hermione said. She was looking very much like she wanted an explanation. She never was very good at understanding when things were better left brushed aside.

'Huh,' said Draco.

'So, where were you?'

'I went over to Pansy's house.'

'Pansy Parkinson?'

He resisted the urge to correct her, it was Pansy _Flint_ now after all, but he knew it wouldn't help matters if he said so.

'Oh don't give me that look – we're friends,' he said.

'What look? I'm not giving any look.'

'Yes you are and you needn't bother because if you can hang around alone with Harry and Ron then I'm allowed to see Pansy.'

'That's different!'

'It is not! Pansy is married anyways.'

'She's still your ex!'

'So is Ron.'

She sniffed. 'You don't trust me.'

How had it turned into this? Truth be told it didn't bother him one iota if she still spoke to Ron and anyways, he didn't know why they were arguing about it _now_. Who was he angry at? It was Harry, for telling him to leave Hermione alone… But even that made no sense anymore, he was too old to really care about Potter, and anyways it provided no excuse for why Hermione was looking so hurt. His head spun.

'I do trust you,' he said miserably. She sniffed again.

'I'm heading home. I don't remember why I even called here in the first place,' she said.

'No, wait, Hermione _don't_,' he said, but she was gone. He heaved a sigh and suppressed the urge to cry. He glanced out over the balcony. What a thoroughly shitty day. He couldn't wait for it to pass. He briefly toyed with the idea of going out and getting drunk but instead decided to just go to bed though it was still early. He changed and fell into a restless, uneasy sleep.

* * *

><p>Draco awoke to the sound of somebody entering the room. He thought it was getting bright but actually it hadn't gotten fully dark yet. 'Draco?' said a familiar voice. It was Narcissa. He sat up in his bed and reached for his wand but Narcissa had already turned up the light.<p>

'Are you alright?' she said.

'Yeah... I was asleep.'

'Well your father and I were worried when you didn't show up.'

'Show up?'

'At the Atkins. The party. Are you sure you're alright dear?'

'Oh… yes, the Atkins. I forgot… I went to bed early, I felt a bit sick, but I'm fine now.'

'Pansy said you were quite upset earlier, you'd been hurt somehow–'

'Yes I got some glass in my hand, I'm fine though.'

'She really seemed quite worried. And Draco you must be careful turning up to her house like that because she's a married woman, it's lucky Astoria Greengrass was there, you know people hear things like that and they start to–'

'Mother!'

Narcissa stopped. She was dressed very prettily, in a summer dress with long skirting and white gloves. 'This girl who you've been seeing – it's not Pansy, is it?'

'Mother, no!' he was aghast. As if he would ever do that! He was a good pureblood, if nothing else. Only… that wasn't quite true was it? What pureblood ran around with a muggle-born not even married? What respectable man had everybody worried about him, as if he needed to be looked after? The very definition of himself was changing all down to Hermione Granger. She was angry with him and so were Harry and Ron and now his mother and Pansy were worried. He didn't like it. He only wanted everyone to love him or at least envy him or loathe him. It was the pity and the disappointment he couldn't take. He was feeling more pathetic by the second and the dark voice in his head knew why; he had gone against the grain. He had settled. He felt his teenage self rising up before him and he saw the situation as he might have once seen it. The sneer was there, cold and unforgiving - _A mudblood? Really Draco?_ He was supposed to wait for a girl who ticked _all_ the boxes, who came with love _and_ had a suitable family. And yet… there was nobody like Hermione, was there? How could any decision he made with regard to her be a mistake? Only now of course she was angry with him.

'Draco?' oh, his mother. His darling, darling mother, what was he doing to her? He was meant to be the golden son and tuck in all the loose ends for her and Lucius, keep them happy, take care of them. And now she was looking at him and he knew he wasn't helping her at all. He started to cry, he couldn't help it. He began to tell her everything.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

When he woke up again it was morning, the real thing this time, he had that wonderful flushed-out feeling one experiences after a good cry. He recalled his mother had hit over the head with her handbag but he still felt a rush of love when he thought about her. Why? Ah yes… he had told her about Hermione and how he loved her and it scared him and he didn't want to let the family down but he loved her and she was so fantastic and he really, really _loved _her. And Narcissa had kissed his head and told him everything would be okay. And would it? Well he couldn't laze in bed all morning waiting to find out.

Narcissa was at the dining table, looking through the paper and drinking tea. 'Oh good, you're up,' she said. She summoned a house-elf to bring in his breakfast. He noticed a set of suitcases lined up. 'Are you going somewhere?' he said. He reached for a jug of water to pour himself a glass.

'No, you are,' Narcissa said.

'Me?' He sounded awfully stupid but put it down to having just woken up. 'Where?'

'The Flint's house. Berwick-upon-Tweed,' she said.

'What? That's practically Scotland! I need to be in London for… business and all that.'

'No, you've been working too hard lately. Pansy and Marcus are going up for a few weeks and it's a lovely estate. You'll have fresh air, good food and good society,' she said. 'It's what you need. And you'll be away from that muggle girl.'

'Mother I think it'll take more than two weeks in the north… I… I love her.'

She looked at him sadly. 'Oh no darling, you only think you do,' she said. 'It's the sex.' Draco blushed furiously and stared down very hard at his eggs. Narcissa didn't seem to notice and kept talking. 'It clouds your mind, makes you think all sorts of things, that's why a good pureblood girl doesn't do it before marriage. Once you've been away from her influences for a week or two you'll come to your senses.' He didn't respond, not knowing what to say. He felt very helpless. 'Come on Draco, surely you must know she's not right for you. She's little more than a muggle. She _works_ for us. She doesn't fit into things.'

Even though he knew she was right, hearing her talk of Hermione in that way made him burn inside. 'Mother I don't care. She's… she's different. If you could see her properly, if you - if you weren't so blinded! She's so wonderful, you'd love her.'

Narcissa's face grew stony. 'Draco I have been very patient with you because I know you're a good boy and young men can make foolish mistakes. But this decision has gone out of your hands. You think your father and I will let you waste generations of hard work and pure blood just because some muggle girl caught your eye?'

The words were clear: _You. Have. No. Choice_.

'Can I at least say goodbye?'

'No. You're expected at the Flint's house at noon.'

He frowned. For the moment, the only option he could see without completely alienating his parents was to go. He consoled himself thinking a letter would be alright for Hermione, it might be nicer even because he'd have a chance to compose his feelings. But he had a strange feeling that the Flint's summer home would be curiously devoid of owls. His mother was an artful woman.

* * *

><p>Other than the owl situation ("Oh yes, bad infestation of Chizpurfle, poor Tweety didn't stand a chance"), the place was just dandy. The older Mr and Mrs Flint spent the entire summer there and Marcus and Pansy were just joining them for maybe a month. Neither they, nor Marcus, knew anything about Draco's scandal and all Pansy was aware of was that Narcissa wanted her son away from some girl she didn't approve of. She had taken it upon herself to see that he was kept busy and was forever sending him out with Marcus. He also had the nasty feeling she was trying to arrange him with the youngest Flint, Barbara. Despite this he did have quite an alright time of it.<p>

Marcus was thick as two trolls with a heavy-set face and a powerful build. He was exactly what Draco needed – he asked no questions except, 'Which dog will we take?' or 'Do you want to stop for lunch now?' Nothing probing or personal at all. The woods and fields surrounding the estate were thick with birds, the trout in the stream launched themselves at fishing poles; it was an easy and relaxing place to pass time quickly. Draco felt he had a chance to sort himself out.

There were times when he missed Hermione so badly, he thought to himself he must return to London as soon as possible. He'd take as much cash as he could carry and go with her, it didn't matter where, perhaps America. There'd be no big, grand houses, no house-elves waiting to take your coat, but he'd have her. They'd go back to talking all day and he'd feel so happy and merry and want to whistle again. He'd have her and nobody would be around to look at him funny or say, 'Granger? Never heard of any Granger,' or, with raised eyebrows, 'A Malfoy and a muggle-born? Well, well, well and I thought I'd seen everything.' He'd never have to fight that bit of him that cared what other people thought.

No, that wasn't true (was it?). It would always be there, an infestation of the mind, turning everything to rot.

There were other times, that struck him unawares when he had just won a set against Pansy or the maid was serving a sorbet, when he didn't miss Hermione at all. He felt that his mind had played a trick on him, that nothing could possibly have felt so good as he'd thought. Perhaps being with Hermione wasn't as special as he remembered. There had been fights, after all, bad fights that hadn't seemed to matter at the time but now he looked back, she wasn't perfect. She had been rude, jumped to conclusions, teased him, mocked his habits, challenged his judgement. Could he really have enjoyed her company? He just couldn't fathom it.

Even when Mr Flint came back from town with a new owl one day, Draco had no idea what to do. He wrote to his parents, saying he was having a jolly good time and the weather was great. He wrote to Seth promising a present. But Hermione… what could he say to her?

The question preyed on him. He was stuck playing chess with Barbara which was akin to watching a gorilla do a crossword. She was a big girl, not fat but with broad shoulders and a frown. Nice hair, nice personality but undoubtedly dim. She certainly didn't have any skill in chess and it took her an age to make any move. She constantly tried to _move_ the pieces manually rather than giving orders which resulted in a chorus of tiny chess-piece voices squeaking indignantly, 'Oi!_ What do you think you're at? Put me down!_ _At once I say!_' Mercifully, they hadn't been at it long when an owl tapped at the window. Draco, glad for the excuse of a distraction, leapt up and let the owl in. It was not the newly-purchased Flint owl but a professional Post Office owl. He thought for a fleeting second it might be Hermione but the envelope was addressed to Mrs Kenneth Flint. He handed it to her, they were all in the parlour, and she read it quickly. She was not quite as slow as her husband and children. 'Oh darling _Blaise_ is coming to visit,' she said, gripping her husbands arm. She was a theatrical woman.

'Who?' said Draco.

'Blaise, my nephew,' she said. 'You must have known him; he was about your year in Hogwarts.'

'Zabini?' Draco said. 'I mean, I didn't know you were a Zabini.'

'I'm not, Zabini was his father, scoundrel that he was. I'm a Bundon by birth, Blaise is my sister Cecily's son and oh, I'm so thrilled he's coming. We'll have to have a party, won't we Kenneth?'

'Humph,' said Mr Flint. 'Don't we already have whatsername, the one from Hogwarts over tomorrow about Barbara?'

'Oh. Yes.' Mrs Flint's face fell. Seeing Draco looking perplexed she leaned over and said, in a breathy whisper, 'I'm afraid Barbara's not done very well in her summer tests and there's talk of holding her back a year. We thought if we had her Head of House and the headmistress over we might… Well, I've never been very fond of McGonagall but if Horace is reasonable…' She trailed off with a shrug. Then, 'I don't suppose we could reschedule?'

'No,' Mr Flint said decisively. Draco had already noticed he was far less keen on Society and parties than his wife. The two fought on-and-off, fairly passive aggressive, and Draco loved it – this quiet, harmless gossip fodder. It was his world. Even Barbara, with her snaggle-tooth and vacant expression, he knew when Blaise arrived they'd have a brandy and a smoke and a good old laugh about her. It'd be just like Hogwarts with Pansy and Draco and Blaise together again. They'd even have McGonagall to glare at them, the batty old bitch.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

As it turned out, McGonagall was the least of Draco's worries. At about eleven o' clock he was out on the tennis court with Pansy, Marcus and Barbara. They were playing doubles, he and Barbara against Marcus and Pansy though it was basically him against Pansy same as always because the other two were hopeless. They had broken for a drink when Barbara spotted two figures walking down toward them. 'Is that Blaise?' she said. Draco squinted. Same neat scrub of black hair, dark skin, arrogant swagger. Good old Blaise. 'He wasn't due until much later,' Pansy said.

'And who's that?' Marcus said.

'Mummy will be so sad she missed him,' Barbara said.

Draco squinted some more. He noticed that she had an awfully nice way of walking before he recognised it was _her_… Hermione! In Northumberland! Walking cool as you please down from the house as if she exactly belonged there. 'Is that…?' Pansy trailed off. Marcus and Barbara still wore that blank look of incomprehension. Draco, making a snap decision, threw down his racquet and glass and ran at full speed, hurtling at full force for the two. He threw himself at Blaise in a great bear hug, slapping him on the back. Still with a broad smile on his face, he said, through gritted teeth, 'Would you both get in the fucking house right now?' He laughed loudly for the benefit of the three on the court, who were staring stupidly at the scene. He waved down at them. 'You lot stay here,' he called, for good measure. 'I'll um, show these two to their rooms.'

Once they were out of sight of the courts he smacked Blaise over the back of the head. 'What the fuck are you doing?' he said. 'And what are you doing here?' he asked Hermione. Turning to her, her presence sunk in for the first time and his anger dissipated instantly. He deflated. 'Hi Hermione,' he said. There was a shake in his voice. He sounded thirteen again. He'd stopped walking but he couldn't remember deciding to do so. It was happening again, he was descending into a dream daze again and his fingers twitched of their own accord, desperately wanting to find hers. It was an effort to keep them by his side.

'I was worried,' she said. 'We fought and you just… disappeared. All your stuff was gone and then the locks on your flat changed and your mother told me I didn't have a job anymore.'

'And then she turned up at _my_ place, bloody demanding to see you,' Blaise said, rolling his eyes, quite breaking the moment. 'You owe me a lot mate, I had to get my step-dad to rush the long-distance Floo and then I had to put up with _her_ the whole walk from the village.' Hermione glowered at him. Draco wanted to kiss her so badly it was unnerving.

'You can go now,' said Hermione.

'No need to tell me twice,' Blaise said, strolling inside ahead of them. 'Where does Auntie keep her liquor?'

Hermione and Draco looked at one another for a long moment. He had the feeling of drinking in her appearance, as if their time together was running out. He felt panic rise inside him. They both began to speak at once. 'We need to talk,' Hermione said.

'Inside,' he said, glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder. He put a hand on the small of her back then withdrew it hastily. Could they still do that?

He brought her to his room, it was the only place he could think of to go, and when he closed the door the silence was a physical thing. She looked like she was close to tears and that was the worst thing, it cut him right down the middle and he just had to put his arms around her and squeeze her until she felt better. 'I missed you,' he said. He sat on the bed and she was beside him.

'I missed you too,' she said. 'Harry was so mad at me and well Ron was angry anyways but it was so much worse. I hurt them so much by keeping you from them. Even Ginny wouldn't speak to me, only she's pregnant so she's all hormonal and she couldn't stand it… Anyways what I was trying to say was… I was so unhappy, and you weren't there and…' She was always so articulate and poised, it killed him to see her this way. He had done it. Hermione was the strongest woman he knew and he had turned her into a mush. She was crying in his arms. Could he touch anything without turning it to ruin?

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'It's okay, at least it's all in the open now,' she said. 'Are you angry with me?'

'No, not at all. I could never…'

'So why did you run up here?'

'I didn't exactly want to... my mother sent me. She knows about us.'

'She _what_? How?'

He as writhing internally. 'I told her.'

'And what did she say? Have you been _exiled_ up here?'

'No. She's not really angry at me per se… She more thinks of it like a mistake I made.'

'A mistake?' Her voice was so cold, she was rigid in his arms.

'It's not what _I_ said! It's just how she thinks! _I_ don't think–'

'But did you correct her?' She was furious, off the bed and standing in front of him now. She looked ready to charge.

'I… well obviously I _tried_.'

'You are _pathetic_ Draco Malfoy!'

'It's not that simple! She's my mother, she'd been through a lot and I don't like worrying her. I did try, but she was getting really upset so I stopped.'

'She's worried about you being _in love_! Draco someday you'll have to leave all their prejudices behind and think for yourself. What do _you_ want?'

'I want you! Of course I want you, I love you,' he said. 'But it just seems like everything else is in the way.'

'Draco,' she took a deep breath. 'I know it's not easy for you to love a muggle-born but it's what I am! You either have to deal with it…. or just... I won't wait around for you forever. My friends know about you. I introduced you to my parents. Am I ever going to meet yours?'

The unspoken threat brought him out in a cold sweat. Hermione seemed to be turning towards the door and he grabbed her and kissed her feverishly, he couldn't control it. He loved her, he loved her, he couldn't let her slip through his fingers, all he could do was hold on. 'I'm not strong like you,' he said. 'I want people to like me.' She opened her mouth and he spoke again, 'But I'll get through it. I'll figure it out somehow. Just don't leave. Never leave.'

* * *

><p>The girl Blaise introduced to Mr and Mrs Flint later on bore little resemblance to Hermione. Draco, who had got quite good at glamour charms, had done a decent job. There was still a hint of the know-it-all around the eyes, especially when she narrowed them, but he'd reshaped the nose, darkened her skin and given her some more fat. There were other things, the width between the eyes, the curve of the eyebrows. Yes he'd done a good job. It'd be enough to fool McGonagall but it was still unnerving for Draco to see Blaise standing beside her in the drawing room and Mr and Mrs Flint just presuming they were dating. Hermione seemed to be aware of it as well, because she said, 'Blaise is my cousin.'<p>

Draco knew that this changed nothing in the Flint's eyes. Cousins were, after all, fair game.

'Second cousin,' Blaise said hastily.

'Well we're so happy to have you,' Mrs Flint said. 'We've got quite a party tonight anyways because I've convinced Elizabeth to come up as well and she's bringing a friend.'

Elizabeth was the middle Flint child. Draco vaguely remembered her from school. She'd been a few years below him and though a bit smaller than Marcus or Barbara she had the family scowl. A scowl that seemed to be contagious because here was Pansy, doing a very good impression of her husband. 'Draco could I talk to you for a second?' she said in a sickeningly sweet voice that always signalled trouble.

'No,' Draco said but she already had him by the arm and was dragging him out of the room. She ducked into the library.

'I would like to know what Hermione Granger is doing here with Blaise,' she said stiffly.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Don't give me that! I know what I saw earlier and you can't fool me with this _Grace Newland_ stuff. I know full well who it is.'

Pansy was such a conniving hag. He knew when she got this way there was no choice but to tell her the truth. He furnished her with the outline of the sorry story. 'You mustn't tell my mother she's here,' he said. 'I'll sort this out myself somehow.'

'You're not going to run away with her, are you?'

When she said it, it sounded so stupid but that was about his most sophisticated plan to date. 'No,' he said. 'I don't know. Just be nice to her please. She'll only stay one night and then I'll sort this mess out.'

'She's not pregnant, is she?'

'No!'

'Then why can't you just break it off with her?'

'It's not that simple. I don't want to hurt her. I like her.'

'Oh grow up Draco and get your head on straight.' She stalked out. Another person he couldn't please. He put his head in his hands and Blaise walked in, sat down beside him and put his feet up on the coffee table. 'What's got her knickers in a twist?' he asked. He took a sip of his drink.

'Are you drinking _muggle _beer?' Draco asked.

'Yeah they were standing in front of the drinks cabinet so I couldn't get at it. Plus I told Hermione I'd bring her here if she told me some place where I could buy it really cheap, so I've got loads.'

'What about me?' Hermione said. It was very disconcerting to hear her lovely clear voice coming from such alien lips.

'You've been supplying Blaise with beer.'

'Oh. Yes. I don't know how you can put up with him Draco he's the most self-obsessed, arrogant git I've ever met.'

'Good old Zabini,' Draco said. He straightened up and clapped Blaise on the back.

'You know I'm right here Granger,' Blaise said.

'It's Newland now.'

'Whatever. I don't know how Draco stands you,' he said. He turned to Draco. 'Even when she wasn't harping on about you or Harry Potter she kept pointing things out.' He wound his face into a cruel impression of her and put on a high-pitched voice, '"_Ooh look at the begonias, did you know they only bloom once a fucking century under the aurora borealis?_"'

'Aurora borealis? Aurora borealis! Draco, are you honestly–'

'Oh leave off, both of you,' Draco said. 'Look I think I heard the knocker downstairs, it's probably Elizabeth and we should say hello.' The other two rolled their eyes but followed him.

Oh bloody hell. What a day. There was Elizabeth, who'd gained some weight since Hogwarts, and there was Astoria bloody Greengrass. He stopped at the top of the stairs. Blaise slapped him on the back. 'Cheer up, at least it isn't Daphne,' he said. Everybody was by the door – the Flints, their three children, Pansy and Astoria, exchanging greetings and asking after Astoria's family and so on. He had no choice but to go down. He greeted Elizabeth very nicely though they'd never been properly introduced before, but he didn't quite meet eyes with Astoria. Easier not to, on the whole.

The nine of them took lunch, just cold meats because the big meal was that night with McGonagall and Slughorn. He was quite impressed by Pansy, who acted very grown-up and pretended not to know Hermione at all. She even avoided the subject of ancestry which was usually all people cared about with newcomers. Indeed, when Mrs Flint brought it up Pansy deftly changed the topic to some tidbit gossip she'd heard. The conversation moved on, for Astoria and Elizabeth both had plenty of news from St Ives where they'd been staying with the Greengrass family. 'You must hear this mummy,' said Elizabeth. 'Who was staying beside us in Cornwall only the Dunbar family and all four girls–'

'All four? Haven't they got any married yet?'

'No, but mummy listen–'

'Pity he never had a son, they are such an attractive family,' Mrs Flint said wistfully, glancing at her daughters.

'Very nouveau riche,' Mr Flint said.

'Selina was a Bones by birth.'

'And married far below her station if you ask me,' Mr Flint said.

'Nobody _was_ asking you,' Elizabeth said. 'What I was trying to say was, you'll never guess who Faye is seeing.'

'Who?'

'Ron Weasley.' Elizabeth said it as a punchline and it had the intended effect, eyebrows raised all around, Hermione spluttering on her water.

'Are you alright?' Astoria said. Hermione swallowed, nodding.

'Sorry, just went down the wrong way,' she said. She was pink.

'Isn't that the funniest thing you've ever heard though?' Elizabeth said. 'You knew Ron, didn't you Draco?'

'What? Um, yes. Never did get on with him though,' he saw Hermione studying him and cleared his throat. 'The uh, family did very well for themselves after the war.'

'True and the Weasleys are an old family even if they keep all kinds of company,' Mr Flint said.

'You could do much worse,' Mrs Flint said.

'Oh but mummy he's _horrible_. Red hair. All covered in freckles.'

'I quite liked him,' Astoria said. 'Not exactly cultured, but he was funny.'

'And if they get married Harry Potter is bound to be the best man. You know he's almost an auror,' Elizabeth said. 'Pass the salt please Marcus.'

'He married another Weasley, didn't he?' Mrs Flint said.

'Yes, Ginny,' said Draco. He was hoping to move the conversation on. 'Blaise always had a thing for her,' he added slyly.

'I did not! You've had too much sun,' Blaise said.

'Unrequited love,' said Draco. There was tittering around the table.

'You are _so_ funny,' said Elizabeth. The way she was looking at him made him feel very uncomfortable. 'You know mummy, Astoria's sister writes, freelances, for all the magazines and _she_ says Draco is going to be announced Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor.'

He was blushing, definitely blushing. 'I am?' he said, trying to look suitably modest and pleased and also like a Most Eligible Bachelor.

'Didn't your father win that years ago?' Mrs Flint said.

'Yeah, just before he married my mother.'

'Well there are some things the war can't change,' she said. 'Though speaking of which, did you hear the Goyle's are in an awful lot of financial trouble? They've got that lovely old townhouse on the market…'

The rest of the meal passed in a pleasant dissection of the current gossip doing the round and then they dispersed. The girls were going on a walk and Hermione really had no choice but to go along, casting a last pained look at Draco as Pansy linked arms with her. Marcus was off with his father seeing about a horse and Draco was left with Blaise. 'Do you want to do something?' Draco said, flopping down on the couch.

'We could have a competition to see who can drink a bottle of whiskey fastest,' Blaise suggested, eyeing the bottle in his hand. He'd obviously managed to sneak it out from the cabinet. 'I'll win.'

'Hmm… no.'

'We could duel.'

'Huh. Somehow I just don't feel like it.'

'You're such a lovesick girl.'

'Shut up.'

'I don't see what's so special about her.'

'I don't expect you to.'

'Pansy's much better looking.'

Draco sighed. There had been a time where he wanted to marry Pansy. If he had, he'd probably have a handful of children now and his mother would be proud of him and he mightn't be deliriously happy but he'd have a bit of sex and good conversation and things would be easy. If only he had never met Hermione he could be satisfied with mediocrity. He gave another heaving sigh. 'You're so boring nowadays,' Blaise said. He stood up and left. Draco couldn't resist indulging in another sigh before leaving as well, going up to his room.

He lay on on the bed, flicked open his book and then threw it down again. It had been riveting last night and now seemed so dull. He let himself drift to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Haha okay I am sort of falling in love with this fic again.<strong>


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

When he woke up, Hermione was coming into the room looking rather more like herself. 'Will you redo the glamours?' she said. 'Pansy noticed they were starting to come undone and sent me back.' That was good. He wouldn't have put it past Pansy to just let Hermione turn back to herself and let Astoria recognise her and watch the fuss unfold. He reached for his wand and sat up groggily, trying to remember what charms he had used to change her.

'She's known the whole time then?' Hermione said. 'That I'm me, I mean.' She stood with her arms by her side while Draco removed all the spells, returning her to her normal appearance.

'Yeah, I told her when you were talking to Mr and Mrs Flint,' he said.

'This feels so nice. They do get so _itchy_ after a while.'

'Pansy's being nice to you, right?'

'Yes. She's much better than Elizabeth.'

'Mmm. I think Elizabeth really is the silliest girl I've ever met. She's a goose.'

'And then Barbara!'

'I know. Isn't she dim?'

'Yes. Oh we sound just as bad as them, gossiping like this.'

Draco was taken aback. He rather liked a good gossip, the thrill of a scandal. Hermione didn't notice, taking his silence as a sign of concentration. 'Astoria's quite nice,' she said. 'Still, I'll be glad to go home.'

'You… you're not having a good time?'

She looked at him. 'Well, are you?' He said nothing. 'Draco, you can't honestly say you _like_ all that talk of who's engaged and who isn't?' When he still didn't respond she went on, 'But Draco it's so dull! It's none of anybody's business and it's so uninteresting.'

'What? Do you and Potter talk history and politics all the time?'

'No but we don't just… talk about nothing all the time!'

'It's not nothing!' He was brandishing his wand and he had to take a deep breath and force himself to lower it and relax his hand. He went back to working on her glamours. 'Turn around,' he said. 'I need to finish the back of your head.' He was shortening her hair, taming the curls.

'Draco–'

'I don't want to argue about it,' he said. 'Come on, we need to change for dinner anyways.' He caught her expression. 'Oh don't tell me you didn't bring something for dinner.' He groaned. 'Hermione! I'll have to get something from Pansy.'

'It won't fit.'

'I'll transfigure it. Can't do much about jewellery and I'll have to make it longer, to hide your shoes. Urgh, this is just gravy.'

'You needn't fuss I'll go down as I am.'

'Don't be stupid, if worst comes to worst we'll tell everybody you're sick,' he said. 'The house-elves can bring you up your supper.'

'Draco! It's ridiculous anyways getting so dressed up for dinner anyways. I don't care if everybody thinks I'm a savage for not wearing the right clothes.'

'_I care_,' he said. 'All these things you hate, they're a part of me! I _like_ discussing everyone's love life and drinking too much and killing things for sport and playing tennis and being popular and, and wearing the right clothes! I know it's shallow and stupid but I like it. It's my life.'

'Draco–' She'd gone pale. 'I didn't… Draco I'll never like that stuff.'

'I know,' he said miserably. 'And I'll never understand what you see in Potter and I'll never get used to muggles.'

She reached out for his hand. 'Why are we still together?' she asked, in a very small voice.

'Because I love you.' He wanted to cry.

* * *

><p>Dinner was, on the whole, excruciating. He was opposite McGonagall who kept looking at him with a glare that could rival his father's. On one side he had Barbara and on the other Elizabeth. Mrs Flint seemed to have positioned them strategically and Elizabeth was definitely trying to woo him. He did his best to ignore her. She dominated conversation and laughed loudly at everything he said. Hermione was right at the other end of the table, beside Blaise, and he kept trying to catch her eye but she was looking down at her food, toying with it and not eating much.<p>

McGonagall was beside Mrs Flint and the latter spent the evening trying to convince her that Barbara really was able for her NEWTs. She kept trying to draw Slughorn into the conversation but he brushed off all comments and talked across to Draco the whole time. 'Heard you've done very well for yourself m'boy,' he said. 'I sometimes have reunions, just little get-togethers of some of my past pupils, you really must come along. Blaise, you've been to a few, haven't you?'

'Yes Draco you must come along,' Blaise said, heavy on sarcasm that Slughorn didn't pick up. 'We always have such a ripping time.'

'Well I'm very busy,' Draco said. 'Not all of us can go to as many parties as you Blaise.'

'Yes, yes of course,' Slughorn said. 'No pressure. We often have Harry Potter though, I expect you'd like to meet him.'

Cue sniggering from Blaise and Pansy. Beasts.

'Well we were at school together for six years,' he said. He really didn't want another Potter conversation; he seemed to crop up an awful lot now Hermione was around. 'We didn't really get on.'

'Ah yes, why I had you both in Potions, didn't I?'

'Yes. Great class.'

'Mmm. Pity you didn't come back for your NEWTs after the war, you would've been a solid E student. Potter did, you know.'

'He couldn't sir, he was in Azkaban,' Blaise supplied helpfully. Draco wanted to stab him with his fork; of all the things to bring up!

He hadn't even deserved to go but Lucius had wanted the bad press to stop. He'd gone for a year, for keeping Madam Rosmerta under the Imperius but even the papers admitted he'd only been sixteen and Voldemort had been blackmailing him. Blaise would definitely pay for that.

Slughorn, eyes bulging, spluttered. 'Well, um, yes, of course, forgotten that,' he said. 'Still, all water under the bridge, I expect you've learnt your lesson now.'

Suddenly, he didn't seem to want to talk to Draco anymore and instead focused on Elizabeth. If Draco had been in a better mood their talk would have been quite entertaining. They were both such silly, foolish people they just seemed to bounce off one another.

Back on his other side, Mrs Flint had changed tactics. Instead of pushing Barbara she was loudly telling her husband (who was entirely focused on the food) they'd have to look into Beauxbatons, that there was no way they could let their darling Barb suffer the humiliation of being held back. McGonagall, steadfastly ignoring them, had fixed her beady eyes on Draco. What was her problem? She hadn't been too bad the night they'd found out about Seth and she'd been positively civil at the Macnair auction. What had he done to her? Still, he could be the bigger person, he was a gentleman, he could be cordial.

'Professor McGonagall, how are you this evening? Did you have a nice journey down?' he said.

'I'm fine thank you, Mr Malfoy.' Oh lord she had such a way of saying each word in that clipped Scottish way, as if each one were a poison dart! It was terrifying.

'You came with the, um, I saw, um, thestrals on the drive.'

'You can see them?'

So happy was he that she'd given a proper reply his words didn't come out right at all. 'Yes, I've seen plenty of people die,' he said enthusiastically. 'I mean, I've never killed anyone. But, um, Voldemort stayed at my house and he killed a lot of people and I um… watched.' Oh lord somebody please say something to shut him up. He was pleading with McGonagall internally to save him but she just kept staring him down. 'I mean, not that I _wanted_ to but you know, he made me. Or you know, he'd, um, _crucio_.' He mimed doing a spell with his butter knife and gave a nervous laugh. He looked at McGonagall, who was still staring, and then averted his eyes. Nobody else had noticed his little outburst except Barbara, who was always staring.

'Are you quite alright Mr Malfoy?' McGonagall said.

'Um, yeah, sorry. I think I've had too much sun,' he said. He cleared his throat and looked down. The beef felt very dry in his mouth and he wondered if he was coming down with something. Elizabeth noticed him pause in his eating and put her clammy hand over his. 'Are you alright Draco?' she said. 'You look awfully pale.' She had moved closer to him and her perfume was absolutely dreadful. He recoiled.

'I'm fine thanks. Just a bit warm.'

'Yes it is a bit stuffy, isn't it?' Mrs Flint said. She called for the house-elf to open a window. 'We're having fabulous weather though. I suppose Hogwarts is lovely this time of year?' McGonagall said something non-committal and vague.

'You've still got that groundskeeper fellow, Hagrid, about, have you?' Mr Flint said.

'Mmhm. Though he's not been well recently,' McGonagall said. For some reason she was looking at Draco… and then he realised. Who had told Hagrid that a giant skull had been auctioned off? McGonagall had probably written the letter for him and she knew they'd sold it anyways and now she was trying to make Draco feel guilty. As if. Absolute dry old bitch.

'Is it a giant disease? I hear half-species are very susceptible to illness,' he said, trying to sound concerned. McGonagall was seething, he could see her knuckles were gone white around her knife and fork. Nobody else noticed.

'Is that so?' Mrs Flint said.

'Yes actually they're doing a lot of research about giants right now in the states,' Draco said. 'Really interesting stuff.'

'On what? How to control them?' Mr Flint said. Draco could almost feel Hermione's eyes narrowing.

'No, no, it's a medical thing,' Draco said. Most of the table had their attention on him now. It felt quite nice. 'Giant's have special magical property. If you had a giant-skin vest it'd protect you from just about anything. Great for aurors.'

'That's so _cruel_!' Hermione gasped.

'Well of course nobody wants to wear skin,' Draco said quickly. 'But if they could replicate it, it'd be a real breakthrough. There's all sorts of stuff about the bones as well, if you use giant bones in surgery things heal faster.'

'Fascinating,' said Slughorn.

'You are _so_ clever,' said Elizabeth, as if he were the one researching.

If McGonagall had pursed her lips any more they would have folded in on themselves. Draco smirked. Nobody could do infuriating, self-satisfied and smug like him. It was a gift.

Except of course, there was always revenge when you pushed people too far.

'There are some things medicine can't cure,' McGonagall said. 'Squibs and all that.'

'Oh yes. Poor unfortunate souls,' Mrs Flint said, without much feeling. Draco was tense, sense heightened, praying, hoping upon hope that McGonagall would just shut up. He hadn't meant to be insensitive about Hagrid, surely she must realise that. Except no, there it was, in slow motion, 'Don't _you_ have a squib brother Draco?' with her beastly, ugly, wizened head cocked to the side and all eyes slowly turned to him. What an absolute cow! She wanted to reveal him, embarrass his family. As if he would give her that satisfaction, let her get the better of a Malfoy. His face remained a cool, immovable mask.

There was only the briefest pause while the options ran through his mind. He couldn't deny it; once the seed of doubt was planted the rumours would circulate and once Seth didn't go to Hogwarts people would know for certain. Everybody would accuse the Malfoys of lying and hiding things. They'd be disgraced, renounced for being old-fashioned by the hypocrites that made up society. The only option was to pretend it wasn't a big deal, as if it hadn't even occurred to them to keep it a secret. 'We're not sure yet,' he said smoothly. 'Too young to tell yet but we're looking into it.' There, that was perfect – act as if it was no shame whatever Seth was, hold your head high when you feel like shit, that sort of thing. He couldn't stand to have anybody pity him.

'He's not shown any signs of young magic?' Mrs Flint said.

'We're not sure, it can be so hard to tell with young children.'

'Poor mite.'

'It's not as bad as it used to be in the old days,' Draco said. 'As long as you've got somebody to take care of family finances.'

'Quite, quite,' Slughorn said.

'They are _so_ lucky to have you Draco,' Elizabeth said. He squirmed away from her and the conversation moved on. He looked up to lock eyes with McGonagall and gave her his worst look, trying to work contempt and hatred and disgust into it, trying to burn holes in her skull. If he ever made governor of Hogwarts, and he hoped to, someday, to make up for his father's sacking, he would see to it that she were thrown out on the street wearing a potato sack.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Later on, when the men retired to a separate room for brandy and cigars after dinner, Draco pleaded ill and retreated to his room. He wanted to mope. Everything and everyone seemed perfectly hateful. He went down to the reading room to pen a letter to his father, to tell him McGonagall had let it slip. Lucius, by now resigned to the squib situation and making an admirable effort with Seth, would no doubt be furious. It was a very hard letter to write. The reading room was so quiet and old with a flickering fire and the candle casting a warm glow over the desk. It smelt so good too, like old books and wax. His mind kept wandering, even with a quill poised in his hand.

His mood picked up a little thinking of ways he could get revenge on McGonagall. Probably wouldn't be too hard to fabricate a relationship between her and Dumbledore, students had joked about it long enough. Or he could say her parents were siblings, in a 'who knows what goes on in the highlands' slant. Or she was old, she'd been in school with Voldemort, you could fake a photo of them holding hands, say they'd had a lovechild. Or his favourite, just cut straight to the chase and say she was a dry old lesbian. Probably the truth anyways.

An hour passed and then another. Hermione was probably looking for him. She was so lovely but he didn't want to talk to her – every time he did made him feel more and more confused. Did he want to leave it all behind and be with her? Wouldn't his life be absolutely worthlessly empty without her?

Such dark thoughts occupied his mind. He heard the sound of McGonagall and Slughorn out on the steps, saying goodnight. Slughorn sounded very jolly indeed. Draco knew if it was up to Slughorn Barbara would be muddling through her NEWTs in September. But there had never been any hope with McGonagall, she was too much of a cold-hearted stone to ever deviate from the rules.

Astoria came into the room while he still sat there staring at a page which only had the address, the date and _dear father_ written on it. 'Oh sorry,' she said. 'I didn't think anybody would be here.' He had probably looked very lost in thought.

'No, no, don't mind me,' he said. She sat down in an armchair. He found himself staring. Astoria Greengrass. How easy it would be to fall in love with her. She was pretty, rather better than even Daphne had been. She was tall with dark hair, a kind of natural grace, a way of looking interested in anything you said. Everybody would understand it why you loved her. 'Ah yes,' they would say, 'so pretty,' or 'Good family,' or just, 'Fine woman.' She was. She didn't interrupt people or laugh with her teeth showing or run or burp or show-off. She was the kind of girl who'd been told _If you follow this formula in life, you'll get everything you want_. Except she wasn't Hermione of course.

'Are you alright Draco?' Astoria said, looking up from her book. She'd seen him staring.

'I suppose you hate me,' he said. 'Because of Daphne.'

She paused, as if it was a sensible question and needed mulling over. 'No,' she said. 'I saw the letter you wrote her and it was quite sweet. Daphne can be very stubborn though.'

'I'm glad she didn't forgive me,' Draco said. 'We weren't really right for each other. I didn't like the way she was so focused on her career.'

He was trying to rile her. He waited for the explosion, for Astoria to call him a pig and anti-feminist and arrogant. She laughed.

'I don't see why she bothers with it,' she said. She'd understood him. '_I'm_ much too _busy_ for a job I think.'

Draco laughed. If he were a girl that was exactly what he'd have said. It felt good to have somebody who wasn't mad at him like his mother or McGonagall or Hermione or Blaise or Pansy or oh, a whole host of people. And she wasn't fawning over him either like Slughorn or Elizabeth. She was the perfect middle. He imagined how happy it would make everybody if they got married. He sighed.

'Weren't you sick?' she said.

'Sick of everyone.'

'Mmm. I know what you mean. I feel so tired after being around Elizabeth all day. She's one of my best friends but–' She yawned. 'Hum. Better not to finish that sentence. Maybe I should go to bed.' She stood up.

'Goodnight,' he said softly.

'Goodnight,' came the echo. 'Hello Blaise,' she said, passing him in the doorway. Just what Draco needed; Blaise, absolutely pissed in both senses of the word.

'This is all your bloody fault,' he said, pointing a finger at Draco.

'What is?'

'I get two weeks holidays for summer and because of your bloody mudblood girlfriend I have to spend it up here in fucking nowhere with my aunt and bloody retarded cousin Marcus.'

'Sorry,' Draco said.

'I'm not finished! I'm also out of beer.'

'How is _that_ my fault?'

'Well I didn't have money to buy more because I had to spend all my bloody money on Floo powder to get up here!'

'Sorry. Here, I'll make it up to you. I know they keep a key for the drinks cabinet in the kitchen, for when the elves need it.'

'A key for the good stuff?'

'Yeah.'

'Can you get me it?'

Draco nodded. Blaise's face split into a smile.

'Draco,' he purred. 'You are my _bethst_ friend.'

Draco sighed. He needed a good long drink. Mr and Mrs Flint wouldn't notice their drink missing and while they were in the kitchen the larder was so well stocked he and Blaise ended up taking a plate of cold sausages, some lemonade, a punnet of cherries and the remains of a black forest gateaux upstairs with them. They pigged out in the reading room, it was past midnight by now, and Draco felt a lot better.

'Sorry for getting mad earlier,' Blaise said. 'S'not your fault Hermione's a crazy stalker, following you up here.'

'Don't talk like that,' Draco said. He drew his wand and pointed it at Blaise. He was crying. 'I love her.'

'Sorry, sorry, didn't mean anything by it.'

'S'alright.' Draco lowered his wand. 'I just love her is all.' He hiccoughed wetly. He and Blaise sat side by side on the floor in front of the fire, the food scattered on the floor around them, heads lolling on the couch.

'You love her,' Blaise said.

'Yeah.'

'Are you sure?'

He nodded slowly and hiccoughed again.

'Wow.' There was silence except for the fire crackling. 'I've never been in love.'

'Don't, if you can avoid it. It's horrible.' He started to cry again. Blaise said nothing and after a few minutes Draco had calmed down again. 'Blaise?' he said.

'Yeah?'

'Do you think… is love enough?'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, can you still be worthwhile and happy if you have love but not money or… nice things.'

'I don't know. That's what poor people say to make themselves feel better.'

With this nugget of wisdom Blaise let out a gentle sigh and closed his eyes. Draco summoned a house-elf. 'Clean this up and bring him to bed,' he said. He heaved himself up to make the journey to his room.

The whole place was dark and it was warm. Even in his linen he felt sweaty and clammy. The moon cast odd shadows on the patterned rugs and he seemed to see things on the edge of his vision. He was glad to draw close to his room. Only when he opened the door Hermione was on the bed. She sat there, hands folded in her lap, glamours long worn off.

'Hermione,' he said weakly.

'Hi Draco.' She looked up and it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. 'I thought I'd wait for you here.'

'You want to talk again.'

'Yes. I need to know Draco, if you're serious with me or not. Because I just can't be in only part of your life, I can't go on staying hidden.'

'I don't like it either.'

'But you wouldn't face your parents for me.'

'I would. I love you.' It sounded feeble to both of them. 'Do you love me?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'I don't think you do, at least, not as much as you think you do. Because there are so many things you hate about me.'

'You don't like things about me.'

'But when I'm around you they don't matter at all.' It was true. He had put up with her muggle parents, he had been interested when she told him about 'movies' and muggle news, he'd even been polite to Harry that night at the Granger's.

She was melting. 'You're so lovely Draco. But we can't keep going on in this half-state, where you're lying to everyone. It's no good.' He said nothing. 'What do you want?' she pressed. It all came to that, didn't it? Did he want his family, his friends, the trappings of his money… or Hermione?

'I just want to be happy,' he said. 'I'm sick of feeling so pathetic and always being the miserable one.' His voice grew stronger. 'I want to be happy.'

'You know, Draco, that's the most honest thing you've said in a while,' she said. She smiled.

'I'm going to miss you,' he said softly. He had her in his arms, savouring those last vestiges of closeness. 'I'm sorry that I'm not better at any of this.'

'Don't cry,' she said. Their voices were getting lower. It was so quiet, they had to be the only ones awake. 'It's me who should cry. I'm single, unemployed, no prospects. Ron's with someone else.'

'That's one good thing I've done… kept you from being a Mrs Weasley.'

She giggled. 'Imagine,' she said.

'You're amazing Hermione. You'll meet somebody better than me. Better than Ron.'

She was crying again, quietly, in such an understated Hermione-ish way. 'I'm going to leave very early tomorrow,' she said. 'And please don't come to say goodbye.'

He wanted to plead with her, his instincts were so pitifully short-term, but he forced himself to be strong. She was loosening from his embrace. 'I'll always remember this,' she said.

'This has been the best time of my life,' he said. He kissed her on the cheek and let her go, properly, cleanly, no hanging on for just one more precious moment. She slipped out the door and he heard the first of her footsteps and another sob and then she was gone and he had never and would never feel so empty again.

* * *

><p><strong>Well flip, there it is. Eighteen is an awkward number to land on. Please review please. My own criticisms would be: Draco cries too much and the chapters are badly split up (because originally there were no chapters). Go review.<strong>

**I think I have half an epilogue written somewhere and if anybody is interested I'll work on it and post. Actually I think there were about three half-epilogues. Anyways, if you enjoyed this let me also plug my other story s/9525587/1/The-making-of-Dumbledore. Also I have like 50 pages of a Draco Hermione forced marriage fic that has a happier ending than this (not hard lol amiright this is so depressing) which will probably be my next work.**

**Thanks for reading =)**


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